


Heart in a Cage

by GrittyReboot



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Brainwashing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Science Fiction, Teenage Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrittyReboot/pseuds/GrittyReboot
Summary: Barry Allen is an agent for one the most notorious supervillian factions on E4, until a particularly heinous mission causes him to have a change of heart and spare a civilian caught in the middle, Iris West, a woman from his past that he simply can’t bring himself to harm. Now a fugitive on the run from the law and his cruel handlers, the only thing he has left to live for is keeping her safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone worried that posting this story concurrently will cause me to neglect my other story, fear not. Working on two stories at a time doesn't usually have much of an effect on my updating frequency. In fact it sometimes helps as alternating between stories keeps the creative energy flowing. CCBWOG should be updated before the week is out. Until then I hope you enjoy this, it is another extremely different take on Westallen, but at their core they're always the same and always stupid in love, because I just wouldn't have it any other way.

*****Barry Allen*****

**  
**

_This is where you belong_

“This is where I belong”

 

_Nobody else understands_

“Nobody else understands”

 

_Your home is with The Syndicate_

“My home is with The Syndicate”

 

_This is where you belong_

“This is where I belong”

 

_Nobody else understands_

“Nobody else understands”

 

_Your home is with The Syndicate_

“My home is with The Syndicate”

“Very good Barry, that’s very good.” He has his hand on my shoulder when he says this, he has a smile in his eyes and it feels like family, and I can’t believe I ever went searching for it somewhere else. I ran away because I thought I needed her. But they found me and brought me back. They fixed me and now I don’t need anyone but them.

"Who is this?" He says, holding up her picture again.  
  
"Iris West," I say.  
  
"What must you do?"

"Kill Iris West"

"Why?"

"For the greater good."

"Excellent," He says. He looks proud of me. 

This is where I belong, I have to remember that. When I forget I get in trouble, and they hurt me. I know they don’t want to hurt me, they care about me like I’m their own. That is why they have to punish me when I forget. _This is where you belong, nobody else understands_. She doesn’t understand. She makes me forget. She makes me confused. It’s why I have to destroy her. Destroy her and take the child. He’s important, he’s like me, but she is like them and she’ll never understand.

He gives my shoulder another squeeze and he leaves the room to talk to Hunter, and I watch him as he goes. I can’t move because of the machines, they’re running through my body still, so when I forget again I feel the shocks and the pain.

“Why can’t we just do this ourselves?” Hunter says. I can hear everything now, they don't want me to restrain it anymore, I even hear her sometimes. Her voice is like sweet lies in my head, calling out to me to forget them and believe her, to go to her and be with her. I want to be with her, but that’s wrong. _This is where you belong_ , this is home. She doesn’t understand,  _Nobody else understands_.

“It has to be him,” Wells says. “It’s the only way he’ll stop running. Besides, she trusts him, she may be half crazy but she isn’t stupid. She’ll never let some stranger get anywhere near that kid.”

“It just seems a little cruel,” Hunter says. “She took care of him all that time, no wonder he can’t forget her.”

“He will,” Wells says. “And don’t feel too bad for him, he’ll always have a piece of her.”

“The boy,” Hunter says. He sounds almost sad. “The boy who’s mother we have to kill, does this ever start to feel wrong to you?”

“Iris West is a normal, the boy is one years old and he’s already moving legos across the floor with his mind, when his powers get stronger there’s no way she’ll be able to handle it, especially not with all of her… problems. He belongs with us, and the only way to make sure he stays with us is to take her out. This is for the greater good Hunter, you know that,” says Wells.

The greater good, it’s for the greater good, that’s what I have to remember. When I kill her I have to know that it’s the right thing for everyone, especially the boy. I can’t hesitate, or feel those feelings again. I can’t trick myself into believing she loves me, nobody has ever loved me except for the Syndicate. She’ll never understand. _Nobody else understands_

“Iris West isn’t special,” Wells says. “She’s just the only girl who’s ever given him the time of day. He knows that now.”

“What if he doesn’t go through with it, what then?” Hunter says.

“He will, I have faith in our boy. Besides, Barry Allen may be able to control anyone, but we control Barry Allen.”

They control me because I’m dangerous. Without them I’d hurt the wrong people. With them I only hurt the right people, the ones who get in the way of the greater good. Iris gets in the way of the greater good.

Wells comes back in after a while to unhook the machines and send me back to my room. It’s small and quiet with gray walls, a bed in the corner, and a mirror above the dresser where I keep my clothes, all gray and black and white. I used to wear colors; red, blue, green, sometimes more than one at once. They say the colors make me think too much. When I think too much I start to think about my other life, when I was a kid and I used to smile and laugh and watch cartoons with so many colors. She was a part of that life too, probably the biggest part. It was like they said, she used to take care of me. But that was only to trick me, to make me forget.

I look into the mirror and see a young man with a shaven head and a thin, angular face, green eyes staring from the center. She used to love my eyes, it’s what she always said.

 _“They’re so pretty, I can’t stop staring at them,”_ she said the last time we were together. Her eyes are pretty too, actually she’s pretty everywhere. She has long, dark hair, and lips like soft pillows, and when she smiles it makes me want to smile too. I have to know these things because she’ll use them against me when I see her again. I have to be ready. I have to remember that she’s just another girl; 19 years old, five foot four, 110 pounds, African American. I used to love her but that’s over now.

I shut off the lamp on my dresser and I go to my bed. Tomorrow’s the day.

*****Iris West, Somewhere up North*****

I hate this job I hate this job I hate this job.

I know, I know, I shouldn’t complain. I’m doing this for him after all. I’d do anything for him. Every time some drunk loser grabs my ass or I get bitched out for serving the fries two minutes late I think about Moo, my happiest accident. I think about the way he reaches up for me when I walk through the door on my throbbing, heavy feet, I think about how smart he is already and how I’m going to send him to the best college there is, I think about how being a good mom is more important to me than being happy at work.

Besides, this job isn’t forever, once he’s old enough for school I can maybe go back myself. I was always such a good student. There was a time I wanted to be a writer. Maybe I still can be, God knows I have plenty to write about. For now though it’s just one of those things I fantasize about during my downtime, it keeps my head together. The doctors say I’m much better now, that maybe there will come a day when I’ll be fully past what Barry did to me when we were kids. It wasn’t his fault, he had no idea what he was capable of back then. It’s one of the reasons I’m so worried about Moo. He’s so little and already moving things. Nearly two percent of the world’s population has powers like his, but it isn’t usual for them to show up this early. He’s special, I knew it from the moment I felt him kicking me from the inside.

It’s also why it’s so important to keep him safe, which means keeping what he can do a secret. Dad is a big help, even though he’s a little bit afraid of him sometimes. Imagine being afraid of a one year old. But he loves him too much to stay away. He watches him while I’m at work, it keeps him busy and happy.

“ _Hey, can I maybe get some service over here?_ ” Some loudmouth calls from the far booth. He literally just sat down. I hate this job I hate this job.

I put my best fake smile forward as I go to hand him the menu. I hope to God he doesn’t mess with me. I’ve been slightly on edge all day, like any little thing might set me off. Severe mood swings are one of the long term symptoms of accidentally getting my brain whammied by a metahuman. I guess loving that same metahuman and missing him like crazy in spite of myself are two of the others.

“About time,” he says with a shit-eating grin, as if I won’t still think he’s an asshole if he smiles at me during said assholery. He's hairy and greasy looking, a total cliche from his balding head to the cowboy boots he can't pull off.

“Here’s a menu for you, can I maybe start you with a drink while you decide?”

He doesn’t say anything as his eyes travel up and down my body as slow as possible. I know I’m pretty, even with barely any makeup, my shirt buttoned all the way up and the thick glasses I have to wear (vision problems are another symptom), people notice, especially skeevy truckers with no manners and BO I smell even from the furthest possible distance I can stand and still be considered an attentive waitress.

“I think I know what I want,” He says. And Jesus Christ he’s a cheeser on top of everything.

“Let me guess, the Lumberjack special, it’s our most popular,” I say, trying to keep the subject on food.

“How about your number?”

I want to groan so loud right now.

“Sorry, we’re fresh out of that,” I say, my smile tight and my tone pleasantly fake.

“You’re funny,” he says. “I like that.”

“Thank you sir,” I say.

“I like your tits too,” he says, scooting up a bit, I finally smell the alcohol on his breath. The BO must have been masking it. “Why don’t you take a load off, sit with me a bit.”

And now his hand is on my waist and he’s trying to pull me into his lap. Shit, somebody help before I throttle this sonofabitch. I look around for my boss, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate,” I say, trying to push away from him, but he only holds my waist tighter.

“Come on, you work hard, you deserve a break.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” My voice is firm and steady, but on the inside I’m practically screaming. If he doesn’t stop I can’t be held responsible for what I might do. I try to think about Moo, about what it’ll mean for him if I’m fired, but not even that can quiet the noise in my head. It’s going to be too much this time, I know it, I can’t stop knowing it. Where is everybody? Why is no one helping? How can they not see?

“Just for a second,” He says, and he’s pulled me into his lap, and the gross pervert has a boner, and I’m tired, I’m so goddamned tired and so goddamned angry, and the screaming in my head is only getting louder.

I don’t know exactly when I go from trying to struggle my way out of this grabby shitheel’s lap, to having him on the floor, punching his face over and over again and shouting every expletive I can think of, but here I am, surrounded by broken dishes and tipped chairs. When this happens it’s almost like a DVD skipping to the next scene, and I don’t know what happened before. I must have been wailing on him for a while, because his face is bloody and his eyes are closed, and there’s a crowd around me. Next thing I know my boss is grabbing me off of him, because _now_ he’s paying attention.

“That’s enough West!” He shouts, grabbing me around the waist, pulling me away kicking and screaming, my glasses are off now and everything is blurry, and I just want to go home and hold my baby.

“That’s enough!” he shouts again once he has me on my feet. I’m still now, and the only noise is the sound of my heavy breathing and a toddler crying.

“Did you see what that asshole did to me?” I say, pointing at the man one the floor. He isn’t unconscious, I can see him moving out of the corner of my blurred vision, yet they all look like they're scared to death of me, they're all folded in on themselves, their eyes wide, shaking their heads, muttering to their friends.

“I saw what _you_ just did to him, we all saw,” My boss says. “You know they warned me you were crazy, I didn’t want to listen.”

“I’m not crazy!” I yell. I notice the way a few of them back up a little. One woman steps in front of her kid, as if I'd ever hurt a child. I wouldn't and I'm not crazy. I’m smart, and kind, and a good mother. I just have no tolerance for being groped at work, what’s so wrong with that?

“Sure, that’s the tone of a sane person,” he says. I don’t say anything, if I say anything I’ll just be giving him more reason to believe untrue things about me.

“Go home West,” he continues. “You’re fired.”

 _Good_ , I think to myself. Did mention that I hate this job? Maybe I’ll regret being fired tomorrow, but for now I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. I untie my apron with hands that shake more than I want them to, yank it over the top of my head and hurl it to the ground before collecting my glasses and marching out of there.

 

 

Dad doesn’t look mad when he comes to pick me up. He looks like he understands, like he loves me no matter what. I wish more people looked at me like that. The only one who ever did besides dad and Moo is gone now. I don’t have a clue where he is, or if he’s even alive. I hear him sometimes, but that could just be because I want to.

“Should we worry about this guy pressing charges?” Dad asks. I merely shrug.

“Well, I’m sure he had it coming anyway.”

“Yeah, people need to keep their hands to themselves,” I turn to Moo, who’s smiling at me with his four little teeth and reaching for me with his chubby little fingers. “They never know when they might mess with a crazy person. Isn’t that right MooMoo?”

I tickle his sides and hear him cackle.

“Don’t do that,” Dad says, shaking his head. “Last time you tickled him like that the kid sent my favorite mug flying into the wall, I don’t want to think about what he might do in a moving car.”

“Sorry,” I say, and face forward again.

“And you’re not crazy,” he says. “No matter what anyone says all right?”

“Thanks dad,” I say. “But I do need to find another job soon.”

“My GI bill will take care of us a little while,” he says. He’s been out of the service over a year and he’s still only a quarter of the way through it, frugal man that he is, but he’ll probably have to find a better job soon too, not to take care of us, but himself.

“I don’t want to have to rely on you for everything, I want to take care of my own kid dad, at least as much as I can.”

“I understand that, I’m just saying, I don’t want you stressing out about losing a lousy job you hated. You were always better than that place.”

“Anything’s better than that place,” I say.

“Well, I hear the library’s hiring, you know how you love books.”

I don’t answer as I glance out the window, watching the city zoom by. It’s started to rain and little droplets are forming on the glass. I look back at dad and smile.

“You’re too good to me,” I say.

“It’s my job baby girl.”

By the time we get home Moo’s already fast asleep. I’m a little disappointed to be honest. I wanted to play with him a bit, maybe try to teach him some new words. Most one year olds know one to five words, Moo knows eight; pa (dad), mama (me), cat (every animal there is except actual cats, which he calls spoos for whatever reason), hi (hi, bye, thank you and sorry), hat (the hat dad always wears), no (no), dada (we don't talk about that) and Moo (naturally). I pick him up out of his car seat and cradle him against my chest. He’s warm and soft and smells like graham crackers. When I get to our room I lay him down in his crib and run my hand over his soft curls.

“It’s all right baby,” I whisper. “Mommy’s going to get a much better job. She’s going to take such good care of you, just wait and see.”

I bend down to kiss his forehead and cut out the light. I meant it, I’ll take care of him no matter what.

 Dad has a date so it’s just me and the sleeping baby tonight. I sit in the big, cushy easy chair and cut on the TV but don’t really watch it. Instead I start to wonder about Barry again the way I always do when I’m this alone. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen him last. He came into my life 5 years after my mother left it. He was small and quiet and a mystery, and in spite of everything that happened, he was my dearest friend. He still is, even if he doesn’t know it.

I think I’ve started to nod off a little when the doorbell rings. I think it must be dad. Either he left his keys or his hands are full, either way there’s no one else it can be, no one visits me, at least not out of the blue. I look at the clock, it’s only nine. It must have been a pretty lousy date if he’s home this early.

I get up, cross the room to the door, and look through the peep hole. When I see who it is my breath catches in my throat. I should think it’s strange that he shows up now when I was just thinking about him, but I think about him all the time, so it’s not so strange at all. I slide off the security chain, unlock both locks, and yank the door open.

“Barry!” I exclaim, and wrap my arms around the tall, skinny practical stranger. When he doesn’t hug me back I’m not troubled. Barry’s always been strange, he doesn’t always react to things the way you think he will, so I hug him enough for both of us.

“Barry,” I whisper against his neck. “I knew you’d come back. I knew it.”

I let him go and back up so he can come inside. He still hasn’t said anything, but he will. There’s a lot that I have to say first anyway, there’s so much he doesn’t know about my life now. He looks different, his hair is much shorter, just peach fuzz really, and his gaze is stoic, emotionless. And now I think I really want him to say something.

“Barry?” I say.

He’s still silent as he turns to lock both locks, and replace the security chain. When he faces me again I know I’m returning his look with one of apprehension. What is he doing? Why isn’t he talking?

“Barry?”

And that’s when he reaches into the pocket of his coat with a gloved hand, and pulls out a gun.

**Stay Tuned Folks!**

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little bit disturbing happens in this chapter, I didn't know if I should include a trigger warning since none I can think of really apply, but just be advised.

******Barry, two years ago******

I can’t stop now, I’m too close. And if they find me there’s no telling what they’ll do. They might lock me up and never let me see the light again. I know just where to go. If I find Iris and Joe they can help me like before. I can control my powers now, I won’t hurt her this time. I’ll never hurt my Iris again. I’ve been running for days, possibly weeks, stopping only for food and sleep. I’ve completely lost track of how long ago I escaped The Syndicate, but somehow I know I’m close. It’s like I can hear her calling me and it makes me calm. When I see her again I’m going to tell her I’m sorry, and that I love her. I just hope she isn’t angry.

I remember where their house is, about four miles from the base where I first met Joe. It’s dark and sleeting hard and I can just barely make out the signs. Fort Randall, pop. 15,000. Nobody knows there’s a metahuman studies facility in this sleepy town a few miles north of Central City.

Once I cross the city limits it takes what feels like an entire freezing cold, sopping wet hour to find her house. I don’t know whether it’s 8 pm or five in the morning, but the light is on in her room. I used to play there, I used to have a life there, everything was okay back then. Maybe it can be again.

I knock a little harder than I intend to. My knuckles are practically frozen and it hurts when I pound them on the glass. I pray that she answers. When it’s this cold and I’m this tired it’s hard to think, hard to read anyone close by. I like it because it’s quiet in my head for the first time in so long, but I hate it too because I just want to hear her.

Finally the window slides open, and she sticks her head out from between the curtains. She’s wearing big glasses she didn’t have before, and she looks confused to see me.

“Barry?” she says carefully, like I could be someone else. I know I look different. I shot up more than an entire foot in the three years I’ve been gone.

“Iris,” I say, not recognizing my own voice, it sounds tired and rusty.

“Oh my God Barry, come inside, right now before you freeze,” she says, stepping aside to let me climb through. I obey, even though my body hurts with the exertion.

It’s warm inside of her room, or it could just be how I feel when I see her face. She’s so beautiful I want to cry. I think I am crying.

“Where the hell have you been?” she says, and she’s crying too. “I thought you were dead Barry.”

I shake my head no. “I was just gone.”

“Why? Why didn’t you call me, how could you just disappear?”

She pushes against my chest firmly. It’s like I feared, she’s angry, but not for the reason I thought. I thought she’d be mad because of what I did before I ran. But she’s just mad that I ran period.

“I left because I hurt you,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

She shakes her head miserably, like she’s trying so hard to stay mad but she can’t. She can never stay mad at me, even when I want her to.

“You’re shaking,” she says. She’s right, my teeth are chattering in my mouth. I look past her at the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot and I look pale and sick. She comes forward and grabs the hem of my soaking wet sweater, the one I stole from a clothes line a few days ago. It has a cat on it and I feel ridiculous. She takes off the sweater and my undershirt, then her shirt is off too, and she puts her arms around me, trying to make me warm, rubbing my back up and down. I put my arms around her and hold her close. I want to keep her forever this time.

“I’m sorry Iris,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m sorry I left you.”

“Shh,” she whispers. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here, you’re safe now.”

When I’m done shivering she runs me a hot bath, and gets me some pajamas from Joe’s room to change into. He’s working tonight and I’m grateful to be alone with her, even though I want to see him too. She sits next to the tub while I soak, like she’s afraid if she leaves I’ll disappear again. I won’t ever leave her.

“Where have you been all this time?” she says.

Lonely, scared, missing you every day

“That doesn’t matter,” I say. I take her hand with my wet, soapy one, twining our fingers. She gives me a little acquiescing smile, but I can tell she wants to know more. Maybe I’ll tell her one day, about Wells, about all of the things he’s made me do, all of the people I’ve hurt for him. I don’t want to talk about those things now though. I just want to stay like this.

When I’m warm and clean from head to toe I dry off and put on Joe’s Pajamas, and she still doesn’t leave the bathroom while I do. Her body is close to mine as she helps me towel off my hair. She doesn’t seem to have any shyness about seeing me naked, even though it’s the first time she ever has. It’s okay, I don’t need my privacy right now, and if I asked for it she’d gladly give it to me. I know there are some troubling things about my body, mysterious scars, a tattoo on the back of my neck that they put there. I can see her eyes on them, but she doesn’t ask what they are, and for that I’m thankful.

Once I’m dressed she puts me in her bed and gets under the covers with me, and we just lie there together. Her forehead is nestled in the crook of my neck, my arm is firm around her and she’s rubbing her foot against mine. The last three years start to feel further and further away the longer we lie here, like I’ve always been here with her.

“I heard you sometimes,” she whispers in the dark. “When you were gone, I could still hear your voice. I didn’t think it was real. But it must have been.”

“It was real,” I say, I turn to look at her, the clouds have parted and the moonlight is pouring through her window now, illuminating her face. “You know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I heard yours too.”

And then her lips are on mine, so soft and warm. It’s the first time I’ve ever been kissed, but somehow I know what to do, probably because of all the times I've thought about kissing her. After a while she's underneath me, and even though I'm thin she's so much smaller so I try to prop myself up over her, but she pulls me down, wanting to feel my weight. I can hear her thoughts as I kiss her, they’re frantic and nonsensical, not like before. But it’s okay, she’s still Iris, she’s still beautiful and kind, and she’s kissing me and her tongue is in my mouth and her hands are under my shirt, touching my skin.

“I love you Iris,” I whisper as I part my lips from hers. She doesn’t say it back, but she thinks it clear as day, and that’s enough.

******Barry, now******

I can do this, I have to do this. The gun is cold and heavy in my hand, and she looks scared. She’s never looked scared of me before. But she won’t be for long, I can make her be calm. I do what I’m supposed to with my mind, and she doesn’t look scared anymore.

“Here,” I say, handing her the gun. Silently she steps forward to take it. It’s supposed to look like a suicide. The gun is unregistered so they can’t trace it back to us, if I can make her shoot herself the angle will be just right. With a twist of my hand she presses it to her temple, her face is a stone and the light in her eyes is gone. I promised myself I’d never hurt her again, but that was before. Things are different now. I have to do this. It’s for the greater good. She won’t feel a thing, it’ll be like falling asleep. She’ll be gone and I’ll never have to think about her again.

I’m about to make her pull the trigger, that’s when I hear it, the boy, the baby. He’s crying in his room. It shouldn’t matter. My power is strong enough to keep her from hearing it. I’m right, she doesn’t hear it, but I do. I hear it louder and louder and objects start to fall. The dishes rattle their way out of the cabinets and crash onto the floor, the books cascade down from the shelves, and all the while she stands there, no emotions on her face, a gun held to her head because I’m making her.

That baby needs to stop crying right now.

I keep my hand raised, held so firm it begins to shake. If I keep it up my nose will start to bleed. Why is this so hard? We talked about this over and over, we talked about why this was the right thing. I should have made her pull the trigger already, but I can’t. I’m too distracted. Why won’t he stop crying?

And all of a sudden it’s like she’s waking up too, her body jolts a little, and her eyes seem clear again, and she’s looking at me, not just facing me, but really seeing me. I didn’t let her go, how is she doing this? How is she looking at me like this?

“Barry?” she says. Her eyes frantically dart to the side to look at the gun she’s still holding to her head. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

“I have to,” I say. My voice is breaking, why is my voice breaking? I’m not supposed to feel this. We went over this again and again, it’s supposed to be easy. I shouldn’t feel anything at all. She shouldn’t be this beautiful, her voice shouldn’t be this kind. The fear on her face shouldn’t have any effect on me at all. But seeing her picture is different from seeing her, from being in the room with her again.

“No, no you don’t,” she says. “Whoever’s making you do this they aren’t good people okay? They aren’t like you.”

No, she has to stop this. She doesn’t understand. _Nobody else understands._

“Barry just let me go, he’s crying, I need to go hold him.”

I shake my head. I can’t let her go, they’re right about her, they have to be. She’s just trying to make me forget again.

“You don’t have to do this,” she cries. But I do, I should have done it already. Why didn’t I? Why can’t I?

“My home is with the Syndicate,” I say, almost a whisper. “Nobody else understands, my home is with The Syndicate, nobody else understands, my home is with the--”

“Barry listen, listen to him, don’t you hear him?” she says, cutting me off.

What does it matter? He’s a baby, babies cry. Maybe they don’t always make the room shake when they do, but I can fix that. The Syndicate can help him like they helped me. I’m better now because of them, and I have to do this.

“I’m his mother, he needs me, you can’t take me away from him.”

She shouldn’t be able to resist like this, or maybe she’s not resisting, maybe I’m just not doing this right. I can’t tell anymore. The baby shrieks again and a picture flies off the wall and lands near my feet.

“You want to know something, something I didn’t tell you?” she says. “He needs you too.”

What is she talking about? What does she mean?

“I don’t understand,” I say. I can feel the blood trickling out of my nose now. I’m going to pass out soon, and I still haven’t done what I came to do. She won’t stop looking at me like that, like she believes in me. How could she?

“I know you’re not going to hurt me Bear,” she says. She can't call me that. It isn't fair. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose, you know how I know?”

I don’t say anything, there’s nothing to say.

“Because we’re a family,” she says. “Look at the picture. Look at it.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I look down at the photo that’s flown from the wall anyway. It’s Iris and the baby. They’re at the park, the baby’s on her lap and they’re both smiling big. He has her smile, only with far less teeth, but his eyes aren’t hers, they’re…

“Look at his eyes Barry,” she says. The gun is still pressed to her temple, I haven’t let her go, but I haven’t made her shoot it either, and I still don’t know why. I pick up the photo, the broken glass falls to the floor as I hold it up and look at the baby smiling out at me.

“That night you came to me, two years ago, I was so sad when you were gone the next morning. I didn’t know where you were or how to find you. But you didn’t leave me all alone, you gave me a gift Barry, a beautiful gift.”

No, she’s lying. They warned me that she’d try to trick me, I can’t believe this. I won’t. I have to do what I came for. I drop the photo and thrust my hand out again. She presses the gun even harder to her head, and a cry escapes her lips.

“Barry please, you don’t want to do this, I know you don’t want to do this. Think of us together, I know you still feel it.”

I remember how I felt, the way she held me, the touch of her skin against mine, her kiss. I never forgot it, but they made the memory stop hurting. They made me stop needing her. I don't need her. I can't.

“You don’t want to do this,” she says again. Frantic and tearful, pleading with me to keep my promise.

And she’s right. I don’t want to do this.

 Oh my God I don’t want to do this. I never wanted to do this.

I drop my hand, and with it falls the gun. I’m on my knees a second later, hyperventilating, half-mad, nose bloody, thinking too many things at once. I want to go to Iris but she’s taken the gun and ran into her room. A few seconds later the baby’s stopped crying.

Our baby’s stopped crying.

**Stay Tuned Folks!**

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The silence is going to kill me. He hasn’t made a sound since I ran into the room, and I’m scared that he’s blacked out. But at least I know that Moo’s okay. I’m sitting on the floor and he’s on my lap, he has one hand in his mouth, and he’s using the other to tug on my ponytail. It’s what he does whenever I’m sad, or scared. It’s his way of saying, “it’s okay mommy, I’m here.” I hate that he already feels like he needs to protect me. I’m his mother, I should be the one protecting him. I just never thought the day would come when I’d have to protect him from Barry.

 I always knew that he didn’t just run away again that night. He was taken by whoever had him before. They came into my house while I was fast asleep and took him from my bed. And they did things to make him different. What did they do to you Bear?

 After what feels like hours I can hear footsteps across broken glass, it’s him, coming toward the door. I have the gun clutched firmly in my hand, and no idea what I plan to do with it, but I’m sure as hell not letting it go. The door unlocks itself, Barry’s telekinesis, and I hold Moo tighter to me with my free arm and scoot back until I’m sitting against the front of the bed.

 When he pushes the door open I expect him to come inside, but he doesn’t, he just stands in the doorway, looking away from me, confused and quiet. His eyes are wet and bloodshot, and he’s still bleeding from his nose, unlocking the door probably didn’t help matters.

 “I…” he starts, his voice faraway, he rakes his fingers back and forth over his shaven head and looks at me. “I went somewhere, where did I go?”

 The baby presses his face into my shoulder and clings hard to my shirt. After another long silence Barry takes a step toward us, and I thrust the gun forward without a second thought.

 “Just stay back!” my voice is cracked and unsteady, but he listens, stilling and putting his hands up slowly. We spend a very long time just looking at each other, neither of us knowing what to do.

 “The baby,” he finally says in a pained voice. “It’s… he’s mine.”

 On some level, I thought he knew, I thought that maybe he could see somehow. It makes me unexplainably sad to realize that he never did. When I was pregnant I remember how hard I wished for him to come back and be with me, with us. And the only thing that brought peace to my mind was the belief that Barry knew about him, and would fight his way back one day. Now he’s here, but it isn’t for the reason that I’d hoped, he came here to kill me.

 “Yeah, he’s yours. But you can’t be around him like this Barry, you have to go okay?”

 This time he doesn’t listen, he steps forward again, slower, and I hold the gun steady.

 “Barry please.”

 “I’m not… I don’t,” he says, kneeling down. “I don’t know why I did that, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His eyes are staring straight into mine, miserable and pleading, and he inches forward until the gun is right against his chest, but it’s as if he doesn’t notice it.

 “Where did you go? What did they do to you?” I ask.

 “They wanted me to forget, but I couldn’t. I can’t ever forget you, you’re here, you’re always right here.”

He puts his hand over his chest right next to where I’m pointing the gun. “So they made me think you were something else, something dangerous. It’s because they want our son, they want what he can do.”

 “Who are they?”

 “They fight for the greater good.”

 It’s all he says, he leaves it there as if that’s all I need to know. And all of a sudden I realize, Barry has no idea what they do or why. He’s so scrambled inside it doesn’t even matter anymore. My heart feels like it’s breaking in my chest and I just want to take him into my arms and tell him that everything’s going to be okay. I just don’t know if it is. I don’t know how far away they are, whether they’re watching or not, or even what they do.

 “Barry this isn’t—

 “But they’re wrong about you, they’re wrong this time,” he sounds more frantic and disturbed with each word and he’s leaning disconcertingly close now, his hands planted on the floor at either side of me. “It’s like it wasn’t even me, like I was outside my body watching it happen and I couldn’t stop myself.”

 I’m crying now, or maybe I always was. I need him to go, I don’t know how damaged he is or what he might do.

 “Barry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t be here.”

 He looks blank and disoriented now, and I’m not sure if he’s listening anymore.

 “My name is Barry Allen, I’m nineteen years old, born in November, my father is Henry Allen, deceased, my mother is Nora Allen, deceased, I grew up in—

 “Barry, what are you doing?” I cut in.

 “I know all of that, but I don’t know what it means Iris. I don’t know why I exist..."

 “Bear—

 And then his eyelids start to droop and the next second his head is on my lap, his blood is staining my jeans, and my hand with the gun clasped in it is wedged under him. He’s passed out. I let go of the gun and wiggle my hand out from beneath Barry and pull Moo closer to me.

 “It’s okay,” I say. “He’s just sleeping, he’ll be better once he sleeps.”

 Then Moo reaches out and puts a small hand on Barry’s head, patting it like a drum he's just learning to play.

“Dada,” he says.

 “Yeah,” I kiss the baby’s hair and press my cheek against it. “That’s Dada.”

 I put a blanket over Barry, and I roll Moo’s crib out to the living room. While he sleeps I ignore the mess and start to pack our things. We have to leave tonight. If they want my baby they aren’t going to give up because Barry had a change of heart.

 

 

When dad comes in a little past twelve he looks about the way I’d expect, surprised but really not that surprised. As a former military Liaison for the Metahuman Studies Institute, not to mention the grandfather of a telekinetic one year old, he’s seen about everything.

 “I’ll get the broom,” he says with a heavy sigh.

 “No time,” I say. “We need to get out of here, tonight.”

 “Wait, what are you talking about, what happened?”

 “Moo’s father that’s what happened. Barry’s in the room passed out on the floor right now.”

 He runs an exasperated hand over his beard. “So he _is_ the father. I knew it, that was about the most pointless lie you ever told.”

 “I didn’t lie, I omitted,” I say, still shoving things in the duffel bag without much rhyme or reason, pictures and books mostly. “Besides I didn’t exactly try all that hard to hide it. Why do you think I named him Bartholomew?”

 “You were in labor 37 hours I just assumed you resented the kid.”

 “Dad, this is serious, I don’t have time to explain right now, we have to go.”

 “Baby girl, are you feeling okay?”

 “I’m telling you that Barry is here and there are people after me and you’re being maddeningly obtuse.”

 “Wait, you’re serious, Barry’s _here_?”

 "Yeah, that’s what I meant when I said ‘Barry’s here.’”

 "I just assumed maybe you were--"

 "Having some delusion? I haven't been that bad in over a year dad. I'm 100 percent not imagining this."

 And suddenly he’s in high alert dad mode again. I return to packing as he starts toward my bedroom, confirming Barry's presence on the floor, he curses under his breath and crosses the hall to his own room. I can hear him shuffling around in there, followed by the heavy clicking of a gun being assembled. He always knew that one day things were going to change, that home wouldn't be safe anymore. Shortly after Barry's second disappearance, the government shut down the MSI and dad was discharged from service effective immediately. We always thought the whole thing was too shady for comfort. Barry was the MSI's star, the proof that Metahuman abilities could be used for good, then everything went completely wrong and now he's being used for exactly the opposite.

 A few minutes later Dad charges back in with a gun and a duffel bag. I already have me and Moo's clothes packed, along with food and my own means of protection. Tonight is the night.

 We set our bags by the door and dad makes the call he always knew he'd have to make one day. He paces the floor with the burner cell pressed to his ear, and rubs his temple with his free hand.

 "Hey, Cecile, glad I could get a hold of you," He says. "Yeah, I know it's late but we need to get out of town, tonight."

 He's quiet as she speaks on the other line. Cecile was a fellow liaison, JAG specifically, and similarly discharged once the MSI folded. Now she runs a private investigation firm and tries to keep a relatively low profile. 

 "I need some cash and an RV, I know you know people who can work quickly and discreetly... We don't know how long we're going to be on the road and we have a baby with us, we can't be making frequent stops... 

 He exhales sharply in relief, "And that's why you're you Cecile, thank you. be there in an hour."

 He presses end on his burner and turns to face me. "Time to go."

 I nod swiftly and go to my room again. It's time for Barry to wake up, although I still don't know what I plan to do with him. Him going with us could be dangerous, but I can't leave him to fend for himself either. I don't know much about what he's been through, but I know that none of it is good.

 "Barry," I shake him by the shoulder, jostling his thin body back and forth, and his eyes flutter open. He looks like he's not sure where he is at first, like he's waking up in a dream, but just a moment later, he darts upright and his hands are on my shoulders.

 "Iris," He says, breathless. "Are you alright, did I--

 "No, Barry I'm fine I swear. But we have to leave, we can't stay here a second longer if they're after my baby."

 "We have to leave," he repeats. "You're right, it's not safe." He throws the blanket off and wraps his hand around mine before pulling us both up to standing. He looks better, more focused.

 When we're back in the living room, dad doesn't speak right away. He just looks at Barry like he doesn't quite know what to do with him. Dad always liked Barry, before the accident anyway. Now he's more wary of him, more uncertain. But I can tell it isn't dad that has Barry's attention right now.

 I hear Moo gurgle and stir in his crib, and Barry's gaze finds the baby. He goes to him, perching his hands on the bars of the crib and looking inside.

 "What's his name?" Barry says.

 "Same as yours," I say, and a small smile reaches his lips. "They never told you?"

 He shakes his head, still staring down at his beautiful, powerful son. I don't know what to do, I wanted this for so long, for them to meet, but it's all so different than I imagined. When he reaches inside the crib I take a step forward, but my voice never comes. Neither does Dad's. We're probably thinking the same thing right now, they should have this moment before they have to be separated again. Besides, if Moo was afraid of Barry right now he'd show it.

 He's surprisingly gentle and cautious when he picks him up and cradles him in his arms. Moo looks at him with wide, searching eyes, like he's trying to pick up every little nuance in his face. Imagine meeting your dad for the first time like this, a quiet moment in the center of such chaos.

 "This doesn't feel real," Barry says, looking at me. "And at the same time it's like the only thing that is."

 "Yeah," I take a few steps up to him. "I know exactly how that feels."

 "I hate to interrupt the family reunion but we have an RV waiting," Dad says. "How do you feel right now Barry, should we worry about you? And don't you dare lie to me because I'll know."

 Barry nods his head. "I'm okay, I promise. I won't get lost again."

 "Well in that case, we have to get out of here. We've already wasted too much time."

 I nod and take the Baby from Barry. The rain is still coming down hard and I get him dressed in something warm before we go out to the car. After I get Moo strapped in his carseat and dad gets behind the wheel, Barry stops me before I can get into the car, he turns me toward him and looks me in the eyes.

 "I don't want to be away from you again," he says. And I know he can hear what I'm thinking now, that I don't know if I can trust him, how far I can allow him to travel with us before I have to make the hard choice. 

 "I know Bear, but we can't talk about this now."

 I take his hand again, and we get into the car.

 

**Stay Tuned Folks!**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just watched the first four Episodes of Stranger Things, and I'm noticing that I wrote Barry fairly similar to a genderswapped Eleven without being aware of it. The shaved head, nosebleeds, brainwashing by a shady organization and telekinesis particularly. I've decided I'm okay with the similarities, just know that they were unintentional, and most likely the result of some pop culture osmosis.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the super long wait on this, nothing to say except it kind of got away from me during the holiday chaos. The next update should be faster, and hopefully longer.

 

******Barry Allen******

_Th_ ere’s _something after me, something I can’t see or hear. I know it’s after me because I can feel it, like a cold wind at my back. I want to turn around, to face it, fight it, but I can only run forward. I run faster and faster until I feel very far away, but from what I don’t know. It feels like I'm far away from everything, like I can no longer be touched, or spoken to or hugged or kissed. And now I’m in the center of an endless sea, with no rescue in sight, but the water does not move, the sea is as still and quiet as it is vast. Maybe if I let myself sink I will touch the bottom, just to feel something solid again. I let go, let myself sink, down down down until there's nothing around me. I let my mind go blank, let myself be calm, let myself be._

_Now I'm somewere else, somewhere even colder. I'm on my back on this cold metal table, a bright light shining in my eyes._

_"Don't worry Barry, this will only hurt a bit," a man's voice says, I can't see his face, but I can feel his hand on my shoulder, it's rough and heavy and not as comforting as I feel it's meant to be. He lifts my hand next, and there's a sharp pain in my wrist, a pinching feeling that leaves as soon as it comes._

_"See, that wasn't so bad was it? And now you won't get lost."_

_He bends to look down at me, and I can see his face now, his blue eyes, those cold, cold eyes._

_"Now you'll never get lost again"_.

When I jerk awake I am moving but sitting still at the same time. I look to the side of me and I can see a window with the blur of scenery shooting past it. It’s not light outside, but not quite dark either. It’s either closing in on nighttime again, or in the earliest hours of the morning. I try to recall everything that happened the last time I was awake, and my throat starts to clench as if someone has their hands around it. I swallow hard to relieve the pressure but it doesn’t do much good, because I almost killed Iris.

I almost killed her.

I almost killed the only friend I’ve ever had

I almost killed the only woman I’ve ever loved

I almost killed the mother of my son.

I almost killed Iris.

I look around me frantically and start to recall the events of the night before. At the end of it all we went to see a woman. It was in the middle of the night, and she gave Joe a package.

“I’ll call you when I get to where I’m going,” Joe said to her.

“You better,” said the woman, and they hugged for a really long time, then before she could pull away, he kissed her, on the mouth, the way I once kissed Iris.

“What about your date?” The woman said.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” said Joe, and kissed her again. And she told him in a cracked voice not to be a stranger.

Then we were off into the night, in a big RV. It was me, Joe, Iris and our son.

I have a son. I keep telling myself over and over until I get used to it, but I feel like I never will. Only a few hours ago I was just me, I was a man in a cage, put there to keep the right people safe and the wrong people scared. Or at least that’s what I thought. Iris is not the wrong person, she is the only right thing I’ve ever had in my life, and I almost killed her. They wanted me to kill her.

I’ve killed before, but only bad people. That’s what I’ve always believed, but now I know that can’t be true. Ever since the first day I met Iris West I knew how kind and brave and deeply, _deeply_ good she was. It took that sort of person to love someone like me, to not fear but understand me. She doesn’t deserve to die, the world would not be a better place without her, it would be darker, colder and more evil.

I start to feel hot tears in my eyes, and my throat clenches again. I’m in a tiny room, closed off from the rest of the RV, with only a twin bed, a window, and a small three drawer dresser. I want to know where Iris is, where my baby is. I find myself wanting to hold him the way I did last night. In fact I want to go back to before he was born, to be with Iris on the day she found out. She was so young when she got pregnant, she must have been scared, terrified, and I wasn’t with her. I wasn’t with her to pick out baby clothes or order parenting magazines or have endless conversations about what his name would be. I wouldn’t have wanted to name him after me because I’ve always hated my name, but I understand why she did. She must have thought I’d never come back.

I wonder if she wished for me when she was having him, for me to be there to hold her hand, or kiss the sweat on her forehead. But I wasn’t there for any of it. I didn’t get to be a part of the first year of my child’s life. And suddenly I feel cheated, mad at the world for making me this way, madder at them for keeping me from her. I’ll never go back, I’ll never let them have me.

And suddenly my blood runs cold, because I remember something else.

There’s something in me, something they put there to know how to find me. It’s in my arm, just under my skin. They have to know that I didn’t do what I was meant to. They’re probably only a step behind us, figuring out their next move. I try to think, try to keep my breath steady. They won’t kill Iris, not yet. If they were going to kill her themselves they would have done it already. No, they needed me to do it so I would hate myself rather than them, so I wouldn’t turn on them like I definitely would were they to hurt her.

They won’t kill her yet, but it’s not like they’ve given up. They’ll do whatever it takes to rid the world of the only one who brings me back to myself. I have to make sure they don’t find me. I look all around me. I need something sharp. I stand up, unsure of whether my legs will even work, and I take the only required step toward the flimsy, narrow door. It’s locked from the outside. I can’t blame them. If I were in their position I would have done the same. I don’t knock for them to let me out, not yet. I want this thing out of me and maybe it’s best that they don’t see.

I look under the bed next, maybe there’s a loose spring. No such luck, it’s made from some sort of memory foam. I check inside the drawers instead, they’re empty aside from a few loose pennies and a paperclip. My eyes linger on the paperclip for a second before  I decide I haven’t reached my last resort just yet, and I look up. There’s a small shelf above the dresser that I didn’t notice before, and I feel across the top until I feel something cold and solid. It’s a small glass bottle of vodka, just a bit of alcohol sloshing around in the bottom. I feel lucky to have found a tool and a disinfectant at once. I wipe the dust off of the bottle with my bedsheet, then open it and pour the liquid over my arm.

Now for the hard part.

I wrap the bottle in the sheet before smashing it to muffle the sound, then I take the biggest, sharpest piece. I don’t take the time to think too much about what I’m doing before digging the shard in, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out. I know where they put it because I can see it when I think hard enough. It’s in the back of my wrist, right below the joint. I breathe sharply, _in out in out_ , and I stick my finger in the small hole I’ve made. I can’t throw up, I can’t pass out.

For a moment I fear I’ve picked the wrong place, that maybe my paranoia is causing me to hallucinate, but in the next second I feel it, the small, steadily beeping chip, and I pull it out with my violently shaking fingers. I breathe hard in relief and pull my shirt off to stop the bleeding with it. I’ve been through worse pain, way worse, but to do it to yourself is a different kind of pain entirely. once the shirt is tied securely, I reach over to open the window, and I drop the bloody chip out of it without a second thought.

I flinch hard in the next second when the door opens, and I turn to face whoever’s come to see me. It’s Iris, rested and wearing different clothes from yesterday. She has a glass of water in one hand and a plate of food in the other.

“Barry I-- Barry! What did you do?” She drops the plate and glass onto the floor and takes a step toward me. “What did you do to yourself?”

I try to smile, but I know it doesn’t sit on my face quite right, because my arm is throbbing and I’m just the slightest bit nauseous.

“It’s okay Iris, I just, I had to get rid of it.”

She looks at the open window, and I’m just noticing the intense chill in the room. “Get rid of what?”

“The tracker, now they can’t find us.”

She has that miserable look on her face again, that awful, sad look.

“I would have done it sooner but I couldn’t remember, I’m sorry.”

“Barry,” she says in a half whisper, shaking her head.

“Everything alright back there?” Joe calls from the front, I can’t see him in the driver’s seat.

“Everything’s fine,” she yells back, then she closes the door behind us and sits me down on the bed.

“Barry,” she says again. “Let me see it.”

With a little hesitation, I do as she asks, letting her untie the shirt from my wrist. The cut is small but deep, and at the sight of it tears spill from behind her glasses.

“It’s okay Iris,” I say, although I know she doesn’t believe it.

“There’s a first aid kit, I’ll be right back okay?” She’s only gone for a moment, and when she returns she makes quick work of fixing me up. She cleans it properly and seals it with the liquid stitches, then wraps it in a thin layer of gauze, all silently. I wish she would talk to me but I understand why she doesn’t.

“What are we going to do Barry?” she says after a while. “I have no plan, I have no idea where we’re going or what we’re going to do when we get there. My life is completely turned around and I don’t know if it’s ever going to turn back. I don’t know anything anymore.”

I don’t know anything either, only that I love her, and I love my son even though we just met, and I have to keep them safe. Those are the only things I need to know anymore.

She turns to look at me, and I know that I’m breaking her heart more and more every second.

“Why can’t things be different?” she says, swiping beneath her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“You know, when I first found out about Moo, I didn’t leave my bed all day. I just couldn’t bear the thought of him never knowing you, of doing all of it by myself. And it scared me how much I still missed you because I knew it would only get worse. And I was right, it just kept getting harder the more time passed. Every time he learned a new word, or did a new thing or even made me laugh I wished you were there to see it.”

I don’t know whether it’s okay, but I take her hand, her warm, soft, small hand that’s always fit so perfectly in mine. She doesn’t pull it away, and I hold on to that one small bit of hope. “I’m here now.”

“I know, I know you're here, and Moo loves you every bit as much as he would have had you always been here, I know because I saw it in his eyes. But I’m just so scared Barry, I’m so scared that we’re going to lose you again. That they’re going to find you and take you away from me, and take me away from my son.”

She’s really sobbing now, shaking with the power of it, and God I want to hold her. I want to make it all okay.

“Iris?” I touch her cheek, making her look my way, and my other hand comes up to touch the other cheek, they’re warm and wet and I want to kiss them.

“Barry?”

“I’m not going to leave you, not again.”

She looks like she really wants to believe me.

“Barry,” she says again. I don’t know what else to say, how to convince her, or even if I can. I know that I’ve ruined so much, that she could have done anything if I hadn’t been selfish enough to fall in love with her, and if she hadn't been selfless enough to love me back. When I kiss her a moment later, it isn’t just because I want to feel her lips against mine, I kiss her because I want to give her the only thing I can right now. I don’t expect her to kiss me back, but she does. I don’t think about why, whether she just wants to take a moment not to have to worry about all of this, I just kiss her and pull her close

It doesn’t last long, but when I pull away she looks better, more calm.

“Do you feel strange?” She says quietly, “Like you might do what you tried to do before?"

“No,” I say maybe too quickly. “I promise you I’m okay, I was just away too long.”

“I knew you wouldn’t do it,” she says. She kisses me again, just once, and stands to begin cleaning the mess. I go to help her, and after a few minutes the bits of toast, scrambled eggs, broken glass and blood are cleaned from the floor. She goes to get me another shirt, one of Joe’s that’s way too big for me and needs the sleeves rolled up, and we leave the room. The baby is in a high chair, quietly watching the children’s program cutting in and out on the television. Just looking at him makes me smile, makes me feel human, like there’s a version of me that doesn’t have to be alone anymore. 

“Hey little guy,” I say a bit awkwardly, kneeling in front of him. He looks at me with wide eyes while he munches on dry cheerios. “Remember me?”

He thrusts his hand out toward me next, offering me cereal. I hate cheerios, always have, and they’re a bit soggy, still I open my mouth to accept the offering and he looks immediately proud of himself once I’ve chewed and swallowed.

“Thanks,” I say.

“He likes you,” Iris says with a warm smile.

“I have to say, I’m pretty fond of him too,” I shake my head bitterly. “I missed so much, he’s so big.”

“And brilliant,” she says, joining me and leaning against me. “It’s okay, you have plenty of time to get to know each other now.”

She presses her mouth against my shoulder, holding my arm tighter like she’s afraid of letting me slip away. I turn to kiss her hair. I don’t know what’s happening, what it means for us to touch, or kiss. I can hear every little thing going through her head, but her thoughts are too confused for me to decipher, too frantic and muddled. Will we be together like this all the time? Does she love me the way I love her? Can she?

“Alright folks, we’re 350 miles out,” Joe calls from the driver’s seat, snapping me out of my thoughts. “National city.”

“What’s in National city?” Iris says, turning to face her dad, her head still on my shoulder.

“Old friend, he’ll put us up for a night or so while we figure out our next move.”

“Any ties to the MSI?” Iris says.

“Do you really think I’d be going to him if that were the case?”

“Just asking, geez.”

I expect us to stop in the city part of National City, where all of the shiny skyscrapers are. Instead we stop about an hour past the city limits, after what feels like miles of winding, bumpy road leading into a deep, wooded area. There’s a spread out compound in the center, with four small cabins in a square, two other RVs, and fenced in horses near a small creek. It looks like a nice place, a quiet place, and at least for a little while, a safe place.

Iris lifts the baby out of the high chair, and once Joe parks, we follow him out of the RV and to the largest cabin on the compound. Joe knocks while we stand to the side, waiting silently. After a few more moments a girl opens the door. She’s around my age, maybe a bit younger, and pretty, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes.

“Hey I’m looking for John J-- wait a minute. Wait, is that, is that little Kara?” Joe says. “Man, I haven’t seen you since you were knee high to a duck.”

She blinks a few times as if trying to recall the man at the door, and in the next moment, her face breaks out into a beaming smile.

“Oh my God, Joe!” She whips open the screen door and wraps Joe in a hug, and I start to feel at ease. We can probably rest a while, I dropped that tracker at least 100 miles back, where it’s likely been run over countless times. We’ll be alright, I know it.

At least until we aren’t.

**Stay tuned folks!**

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

******Iris West, nine years ago******

 

I’m about to meet Barry for the first time, the boy who sees me in his head. There was a lot of fighting between the adults about whether it was a good idea or not. They said there are things that I’m too young to know. Also I’m what they call a civilian, so there’s law stuff standing in the way. In the end they decided to let me meet him, they say he keeps asking for me, wondering about me and why I’m in his head even though he’s never met me. They think if he meets me for real then they might get some answers about how his powers work, whether they’re connected to certain people. If they can figure out how to control them then maybe he can be a normal boy.

Dad was against it too at first. but I told him that I wanted to meet him. I feel bad for him, he’s never had a family, and he spends all of his time in a lab because they’re scared he might hurt someone. He’s just a kid, like me. If he hurts someone I know it’s not because he means to.

My dad had to fill out a lot of forms, and I had to answer all sorts of questions I didn’t understand. It was nearly a straight hour of answering questions, like how often I had nightmares, or whether I had ever witnessed a supernatural phenomenon. It was all so boring I nearly changed my mind. I decided to keep going because I knew that Barry had to deal with much worse, for his entire life.

I’m with my dad now, he’s not a civilian so he can come see Barry anytime he wants. He keeps him company sometimes, they play games together and talk about stuff. According to dad Barry always beats him at scrabble, but I feel like if I played against him I could win. I read a lot so I know way more words than most kids my age, big words like _metamorphosis_ , and _accumulate_ , although I doubt I’d be able to play either of those on a Scrabble board.

Dad wondered at first if Barry only saw me in his mind because of him, because he was reading his thoughts, but his bosses told him the truth. Barry has been seeing me ever since he was five years old and his powers really started to develop, that was two years before he even met my dad. It’s weird and I know I should be scared, but I’m not. The truth is I’ve always felt like I was being pulled in this direction I couldn’t name. I don’t have powers, I’ve never been able to see Barry, but I’ve always felt him, always felt like there was a space where he belonged, I didn’t always know it was him, but I knew it was something.  

The hallway leading to the lab is big and white and bright, with no sounds aside from this sort of low humming. I haven’t held my dad’s hand since I was six, but I do now because I’m about to meet a metahuman and I don’t know what might happen. 

“This is it,” Dad says. “You can still change your mind if you want.”

“No, I’m ready,” I say. I let his hand go and Dad lets out a breath, pressing a bunch of buttons on the keypad, then the doors open and we walk through them.

I was expecting something different, some blank, empty space with a sad boy inside, kept away from the world. But Barry’s room doesn’t look too different from mine aside from the thick glass separating us. There is dinosaur wallpaper and a jurassic park bedspread and games and action figures on shelves. At first I almost don’t see him, he’s sitting next to his bed, his head covered in a striped hoodie. I can see his hands, pale and thin, with long fingers that he uses to mash the buttons on his video game controller. He’s playing some sort of zombie game, and it seems like he’s really good. He shoots them right between the eyes as soon as they pop up onscreen, like he knew they were coming, and I wonder for a second if he did.

Dad raises his fist to knock, but Barry pauses the game, yanks his hood down and faces us before dad's knuckles hit the glass.

“Hello?” he says in a shy voice. His eyes are green and pretty, and his nose and ears are sort of pointy, like a christmas elf. He has freckles too, he’s cute, and I smile a little when I look at him.

“Hello,” I say, I wave, a little bit nervous, and he stands up and walks toward me slowly. He doesn’t even seem to notice that dad is here too.

“It’s you,” he says, pressing his hands against the glass.

“Do you know my name?” I say.

He nods. “It’s stiched on the red backpack you take to school. Iris, right?”

“That’s it!” I say, amazed. He smiles at me, and I like his smile, it makes me feel like this is safe, like he’s safe.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen in my head without meeting them first. It’s just, seeing you for real, you’re different than I thought you’d be.”

How would he know? I’ve barely said anything, and I wonder if he means I’m different in a bad way or a good way.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I just…” he looks dreamy, like he’s watching a sunset and he’s forgotten the rest of the world around it. “I just didn’t know you’d be this beautiful.”

I laugh a little, and I ask him if he wants to play a game, he nods and looks as excited as if I’d just asked him to go to Disneyland. I think we’re going to be friends for a long time. I just know it somehow.

 

******Iris West, Now******

 

I’m pacing the floor in Kara’s bedroom, where she sent me to change clothes and freshen up. Kara seems friendly, bubbly, like the one nice cheerleader on the squad. Her sister I met only briefly seems nice too, although more reserved. Dad says they have secrets that aren't his place to tell me, and to be honest I’m not sure if I want him to. I’m not sure if I need to understand why they’re different. I just like to think they’re nice people who are helping us, and that no harm will come to them for it.

I’ve been in this room probably a lot longer than they expected. I need to think, about everything that’s happened in such a short time. Yesterday I was a single mom, with a crappy job and a crappier apartment. Now I have no home, but I have my family, all of them. I’m just afraid of getting too close to Barry again, afraid of how my heart will break if I lose him a third time because it may be beyond repair. But when he’s around there’s simply nothing I can do, I can’t push him away, I can only pull him closer because that’s where he belongs. When he’s with me it’s like everything is as it should be, like the universe is in perfect alignment. That’s a strange way to feel about someone who’s caused so much pain, unintentionally or not, but I can’t change what’s true.

I wonder if that’s how Moo feels too, this sense of completion he can’t explain now that his father is here. Maybe it was wrong of me to let Barry come with us, but not as wrong as leaving him behind. He’s a part of both of us, he always has been, and now there’s no choice but to protect each other as best as we can.

I hear a light knock on the door, and I go to open it. It’s Alex, Kara’s older sister. She’s beautiful, with wide, dark eyes and hair cut sensibly to her chin. She’s got Moo in her arms and I can see on her face just how comfortable she is with holding him.

“I hope you don’t mind, I changed him,” she says.

“Are you kidding? Of course I don’t mind,” I try to say more cheerfully than I manage. She hands him to me and I set him on my hip.

“So,” Alex starts. “That guy, the quiet one with the shaved head, there’s some history there isn’t there?”

Dad didn’t get into specifics with John, the man setting us up for a couple of days, and John didn’t ask, but Alex looks a lot more curious, although not in a suspicious way, which I’m grateful for.

“He’s my… boyfriend. I mean, I guess,” I don’t like using that term for him, not because it isn’t technically true, but because it seems laughably insignificant compared to what he actually is to me. What he is to me sort of escapes definition if we’re being honest.

“And this little guy’s dad?” She says, giving Moo a warm, almost sad smile.

I nod.

“Maggie wants kids,” she says, as if I should know who Maggie is, she shakes her head and scrunches her nose in mild embarrassment, realizing her oversight. “Sorry, Maggie, she’s my wife. You’ll probably meet her later.”

“You’re married?” I say.

“It’s new,” she says, nearly blushing.

I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever get married. It wouldn’t seem honest to marry anyone besides Barry, but he doesn’t technically exist to the outside world, no driver’s license, no social security number, no official birth certificate. The only thing he has like everyone else is a birthday and a name. They promised his mother on her deathbed that he’d have a name.

“Hey,” Alex says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “John’s making burgers for lunch, and trust me you don’t want to say no to his burgers.”

I actually don’t. I haven’t eaten in almost 18 hours and I’m really starting to feel it. I follow Alex out of the room and the front door to join the others in the front yard. It’s a clear day, sunny but not too hot. Dad is talking and laughing with John as they enjoy their 12 o’clock beers on the picnic table, and I’m glad to know that he has friends just about everywhere, because God knows he needs them right now. Kara is near one of the parked RVs talking with a tall, handsome black man that I have yet to meet, and Barry is sitting by himself, staring off into space. I take a seat next to him, Moo still in my arms.

“Hey stranger,” I say softly. He tries to smile at me, but it looks forced. I know that he’s not in a good place right now, that he wouldn’t be. It makes me hate them all the more, the ones that took him away from me. I hope they never find us, I hope they die before they even come close.

“I want you to show me what happened to you Bear,” I say. “I need to know.”

“No, you don’t need to know that,” he says quietly. I hear John flip the burger on the grill with a loud sizzle, and Barry flinches. Next I hear a loud, pop, followed by a shatter. I turn my head to face dad, whose hand and the front of his shirt are wet and foamy with the beer that’s just exploded in his hand.

“Sorry Joe,” Barry says. Alex looks at him from where she’s standing, near the grill with John. She doesn’t look fazed, more amused than anything actually. She’s definitely used to this kind of thing.

“Alex,” I say. “Can you hold him a second? I need a moment.”

She doesn’t miss a beat, coming to gather him up in her arms. I hope that her and Maggie have that kid eventually, she seems like she’d make a good mom.

I take Barry’s hand and walk him out of earshot of the others. He looks near tears, and it never goes away, the overwhelming need to hold him in my arms and make everything better.

“Please show me,” I say. “They hurt you, I know they did.”

“And if I show you that I could hurt _you_ , like last time.”

“That wasn’t the same,” I say. It wasn’t, I got hurt because he was trying to help me, because he was trying to do something he’d never done before in an intense, unpredictable moment. This is different, he’s shown me his memories, his fears, and it’s only ever made me feel closer to him. I need to feel closer now. I need to understand.

“Barry, Iisten to me,” I cradle his face in my hands, making him look me in the eye. “I need to know what they did to you, I know you want to protect me, but how am I supposed to protect you if i don’t know what we’re up against.”

He shakes his head against my hands, and pulls them down from his face. “It’s not up to you to protect me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I snap, and he looks surprised at my anger. “Besides after what happened at the apartment, do you really think we can just move on from that without me knowing all of the facts?”

“I just, I don’t know if it will work.”

“Why, when has it not?”

He looks at me, his eyes wide and a little scared. “I can’t read your thoughts anymore. I mean, I can, but they’re scattered, like I can’t latch onto them.”

My thoughts are no more scattered than anyone else’s, at least that’s the case most of the time. There was a time at the beginning, after I got hurt, where I couldn’t think straight to save my life, but that was a few years ago. I’m practically cured now aside from the occasional blackouts, and even those need to be provoked. If Barry can’t latch onto my thoughts, it must have been because of them. It must have been another thing to pull him further from me, to make it easier for him to take me out.

“I can still hear you all the time, and it’s the only thing that makes me happy. But it’s like looking at an abstract painting, you don’t know what it is, only how it makes you feel.”

“So you’re afraid I won’t be able to see?”

He nods bitterly.

“Well how will you know unless you try?”

I take his hands in mine and look him deep in the eye. “Just breath okay, breath deep and try to clear your head."

He obeys, filling his lungs slowly, and letting the air back out even more slowly. I tell him to close his eyes and he does. I realize now how few times I’ve actually kissed him. The night Moo was conceived was the first time ever, then there was the soft, gentle kiss we shared in the RV. But both times he seemed so much calmer, more open. When I kiss him this time he stiffens against it for a half a second before his lips relax. I try to send him my thoughts, slow and overpronounced, like trying to talk to someone who’s just learning to speak English.

 _It’s all right baby, you’re safe, we’re safe, everything is going to be all right,_ I think, hoping that he can hear it clearly.

We kiss deeper, and his hands come up to touch my neck and I wrap my arms tighter around his middle.

_Wherever you go right now, remember we’re right here, we’re together, and everything’s all right._

_Okay Iris_ , I hear in my head a second later.

It happens the way it always does, it’s like everything around us falls away and it’s just the two of us suspended in black, empty space.

_“No! No please, please stop!” The sound of Barry’s voice, in anguish, in pain, makes my heart squeeze. A vision has unfolded in front of me, Barry in a chair in the middle of a bright yet thoroughly cold-looking room. He’s attached to machines, wires affixed to his temples and his bare chest with translucent disk connectors that resemble suction cups. It’s doing something to his body, making him convulse and cry out. I want to look away but that’s not how the visions work._

_It goes on for far too long, until I’m worried he may die in spite knowing for a fact that he doesn’t. When a man I don’t recognize cuts off the machine, I’m relieved. Barry’s body wilts, and I realize how exhausted and unwell he looks. He’s pale and even thinner than usual, with dark circles under his eyes. He seems to fall asleep, but the man won’t let his eyes stay closed for long. He wakes Barry with a slap to the face and grabs his jaw before thrusting a photo in his face._

_“Who is this?” The man says, his voice matter of fact, businesslike._

_“Please,” Barry whimpers. “Please stop.”_

_“Who is this?” The man says again, firmer._

_Barry looks at the photo and tears escape. “It’s Iris,” he says in nearly a whisper._

_“And what must you do if you hope to be free,” he says._

_“Please,” Barry says again. “Don’t make me hurt her, please.”_

_The man drops the photo at his side and switches the machine on again, making him writhe and spasm in pain. I feel like I might be sick. I can’t watch anymore_.

I pull my lips away from Barry’s but keep him in my arms as the vision dissolves. I look at his face, and he seems alright, better than I probably am, although his nose has bled again. I pull my sleeve over my hand and use it to wipe away the blood, ignoring the fact that my own face is soaked with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to see.”

I don’t respond as I bury my face in his chest, clinging to his clothes.

“I’m never going to let them find you again,” I cry, my voice muffled. I mean it. He belongs with me, he’ll always belong with me.

“Hey guys, burgers are done,” Kara says, walking up to us. The tall man is with her, a camera in one hand, her hand in the other. “Hey, what’s wrong, are you okay?”

I realize now that I’m still crying, and I wipe my eyes roughly. “I’m fine, we’re fine.”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Says the man. His voice is deep and strong. “I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you James,” I say reaching out one hand for him to shake, he lets go of Kara’s hand to shake mine.

“Listen,” James says. “I’m not going to pretend to know everything about your situation, but I hope you know this is a safe place.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Kara says. And next thing I know her eyes glow red before switching back to their original blue.

“Whoa,” I say. “You’re a metahuman?”

“I guess that’s what they’d call me, if I were human,” she says. “We’ll talk more about that later, but for now, burgers!”

“Barry,” I tilt my head up to look at him. “Are you alright to eat?”

He looks down at me and smiles, and it looks more genuine than it did back at the picnic table. “I’m starving actually.”  
  
I realize that I’m still holding him, it’s hard to let go after what I saw, but I remind myself that we’re safe for now, and let Kara lead me by the hand back to the picnic tables.

**Stay Tuned Folks!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kara is the only character in this fic who will have the same powers as she does on her show, since I've decided Krypton 4 is pretty much the same as Krypton 1. I hope you get a kick out of who The Flash is in this universe though. Also I'll likely be spending about two or three chapters in each new location.


	6. Chapter 6

******Nora Allen, twenty years ago******

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The Metahuman repurposing act was supposed to make us safer. I never bought that of course, I voted against it. How did it make anything safer to spread that sort of hatred around? That sort of fear? The whole thing just seemed wrong, like the human part no longer mattered. But we were outvoted, 62 to 38 percent, and suddenly good people who couldn’t help how they were born, were at the mercy of a government that saw them as only a threat.

When I voted against the act I didn’t know what would end up growing inside of me, maybe if I’d known I would have fought even harder, protested in the streets, gotten petitions signed, anything to keep my baby safe and here with me.

The worst of the trouble started two months ago, Henry and I were the epitome of a happy expectant couple, hand in hand in the baby aisle, bombarded by the constant stimuli of onesies small enough for footballs and Baby Bjorn wrap slings that looked like hanging silks for mini acrobats.

“How exactly am I supposed to work this thing?” Henry said, the wrap sling hanging pathetically around his neck and elbows, he looked like an unraveled mummy.

“Well, pretty sure you need a baby in there somewhere,” I laughed at him, and he laughed back, gathering the endless stretch of fabric between his hands. I knew we’d have to pay for it, because there was no way he was getting it back in the box the same way. It didn’t matter, I would have bought out the whole store, excited as I was.

Once he got the Baby Bjorn situation under control he met my side again, taking my hand, and suddenly there was something in his eyes, something pensive and serious, such a departure from the silliness he’d just been engaged in.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” I said, my hand reaching his cheek.

“I hate to ask, I mean, I know you’re happy right now and all I want is for you to stay happy.”

“But?”

He gave my hand a little squeeze, “Have there been any more incidents? Even small ones?”

“Henry--

“Look I know I promised I wouldn’t bring it up today, but I need to bring it up honey.”

He was talking about the earthquake, or what we’d originally thought was an earthquake anyway. We were sleeping a few nights before, and all of a sudden the room started to shake. Our wedding photo and the empty tea cup started to rattle their way off of the nightstand, along with the books in the shelves and the dishes in the kitchen. It had lasted several seconds, at least thirty, all the more unusual since shake ups like that simply didn’t happen in that part of the country. When we got up at daylight we expected the whole town to be talking about it. But when our neighbor Virginia came over for coffee the way she always did in the mornings, it was like she had no idea. In fact none of the neighbors had felt the quake, not even Mr. O’Shanahan, the world’s lightest sleeper if his frequent calls about the brightness of our porch light keeping him up were any indication. It was then that I remembered the pamphlet they gave me at my first prenatal appointment.

**Signs you’re having a metahuman baby**

_If you believe you are pregnant with a telepathic or telekinetic child, look for the following symptoms._

_Severe dizziness and illness in the early stages of pregnancy_

_Strange, sometimes prophetic dreams_

_Random, quaking movement of objects around you_

I had all of those signs. I’d even dreamt the unguessable twist ending of a movie we’d been dodging spoilers for for weeks. For a while I tried to tell myself that it was nothing, just the pregnancy hormones messing with my head, because having a metahuman baby just wasn’t an option. Under the new laws, they’d take him away as soon as the tests came out positive. He’d be property of the US government and me and Henry would never get to see him grow up. I couldn’t think about that, I wouldn’t.

“I told you it was nothing,” I said, almost a little too quickly. “It was a quake, that’s all.”

“Nora--

“Just stop it!” I yanked my hand away like it had been burned.

And that was when it happened again, the shaking, packaged baby bottles and learning toys rattling and spilling into the aisles. I needed it to stop, no, we needed to run far away from there before somebody saw. Henry took my hand in his again and we abandoned the cart, hustling out of the aisle without another word shared between us.

 _“Meta!”_ At the sound of the woman’s voice behind us I stiffened, but kept walking, kept staring forward, Henry’s hand grasped tightly in mine.

“Meta, she’s a meta! Stop her!”

When security came after us, I knew that it was over, I think we both knew. All we could do was run until they caught up to us.

Now I’m here, and I don’t know quite where here is, maybe a hospital, maybe a jail, maybe both. Wherever it is I have to stay until my child is born. I don’t know where Henry is, what they’ve done to him. I don’t know what’s going to happen to my son, or even what’s going to happen to me. All I know is that one day, when he’s all grown up, and he has those powers that allow him to see and hear everything around, that he can hear my voice when I tell him how much I love him.

******Barry Allen, Now******

They said that I was gifted, that was the word they always used. Telepaths and telekinetics are the rarest form of metahuman, next to speedsters. And to do it all-- read minds, move things, have visions of the future and past and different places around the world, project memories, control people-- to be able to do all of that when I was still a kid, well, no wonder so many different people wanted to use me. The Metahuman Studies institute was my home for the first 14 years of my life. Considering where other metas ended up, I was lucky. I could have wound up in some secret prison, or cut up and sorted into various test tubes, or I could have ended up with The Syndicate all along, unaware that life was anything more than a game of kill or be killed. With The MSI I wasn’t free, but I was safe for a while, and with Iris I wasn’t alone.

I guess in the end it was a mistake on their part, letting me meet her. I know why they did. It wasn’t just so they could understand my powers better, they wanted me to have a friend. They knew my life would never be normal, that I would never really be free. Letting me have a friend was the least they could do, the one shred of true mercy they were allowed to show me.

I was five when I saw her first, in my first prophetic dream outside of the womb. She was in her room, drawing a picture of a cat. That was it, that was the entire dream, the first manifestation of a new power wasn’t some cataclysmic event I needed to prevent, just a little girl drawing a cat in her room.

And that’s always been the big question. I don’t know whether I’m meant to be good. I know that Iris thinks I am, and that Joe has always believed in me, but the truth is, my powers have never been used for any reason other than to hurt people. I’ve heard about heroes, about people who go around saving people and protecting cities in spite of the laws, people that live in the shadows until it’s time to step up and do what’s right. That’s what I want. I want to be good, I want to be the kind of man Iris deserves, that my son can look up to. Maybe now I can. Except I don’t want to be hopeful about anything. The last time I had this sort of hope was when I was in Iris’s bed, after she made love to me and I was so calm that I could sleep soundly for the first time in so long. I thought then that everything was going to be okay, and it wasn’t. It’s hard now not to fear that they’re one step behind me. The second they're close enough for me to hear them we’ll have to leave, and I don’t want to.

It’s quiet here, and there are so many trees, trees everywhere, the kind I used to wish I could climb on when I was young and lived my life behind a thick wall of glass. Everything here is so wide and open, but feels safe all the same, or at least as safe as it can feel. When you’ve lived the sort of life I have, you never truly feel safe, no matter where you are.

Kara, the girl, moved to these woods with John and Alex a little after her ship crashed 17 years ago, when she was just a little older than Moo. With the way metahumans are treated, there was little hope that someone born on another planet would fare any better, in fact it might have even been worse, because while the world may hate and fear metahumans, at least they know for a fact that we’re real.

John is an Alien too, although I don’t think he wants me to know that yet. He adopted Alex and Kara when they were very young and and their Father, John’s best friend, was killed by the faction hunting Kara. As for James, he was a nature photographer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time one day, and ended up discovering Kara’s powers when she saved him from a potentially deadly fall. Now he’s here all of the time, both for his work and because he couldn’t help becoming smitten with the girl who saved his life. I know all of this without having to talk to anyone. I just know.

It’s getting late. There’s a campfire and Joe and John are trading stories. Kara is kissing James over by his RV, and Alex and her wife Maggie are having some whispered conversation over by the picnic tables. I know that they’re talking about me, but it’s nothing bad. Mostly they’re curious about how my powers work. To be honest, even if I felt like telling them I wouldn’t know where to start, I’ve been studied my entire life and I still feel like there’s a world of information I don’t know. My powers have never felt like my own, they’ve always felt more like a tool that's used through me. It’s a strange thing, to be so powerful and still feel so helpless.

I still don’t want to talk and I know that Iris is worried about me with the way she’s clinging to my hand. I have Moo on one knee and he’s looking at my face and I’m looking back at his, the way the light from the campfire dances across it, illuminates his eyes. I still don’t understand how I can love him so much already, how the urge to protect him can be so strong. And I hate them, the ones that kept me away from him so long. I can’t believe there was ever a time that I trusted them, that there was any amount of torture and reprogramming that would distance me from my family.

“You’re awful quiet over there kid,” John says next, and I look at him over the campfire, but don’t say anything.

“He’s been through a lot,” Iris lets go of my hand and rubs my back firmly up and down. I have been through a lot, I’ve been through a lot my entire life. But so has Iris, and what’s worse is she never had to be a part of any of it. When I think about everything she had to sacrifice because of me it makes me wish I could go back in time and keep her from ever meeting me. But no, that wouldn’t be right either, because then Moo wouldn’t exist, and making him is the only good thing I’ve ever done.

“You’re an alien too,” I say then to John , not really knowing why.

“I am,” John says calmly.

“And you were in the service, with Joe, that’s how you know him,” I say.

“This kid’s good,” John says, nudging Joe. He looks at me again. “I served 20 years before things got… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Iris says.

“He had to protect Kara, there were people after her,” I say. “Your friend found her, tried to give her a home, but they killed him.”

And suddenly it’s quiet, and everyone is looking at me. I’ve said the wrong thing, because that’s what I do when I talk too much.

“My parents were killed too,” I say, I’m trying to make it better, but it isn’t until I’ve said the words that I know I haven’t. “They were killed because they tried to take me. It was against the law for them to have me but they didn’t care about that, they just wanted to give me a home, too.”

“Barry--

“I know none of it was your fault Joe,” I say, interrupting him. “You didn’t know about any of it, it was privileged information.”

“Barry hey,” Iris starts, rubbing my back again.

“They killed them and it took 14 years before I did anything, 14 years,” I continue, not able to stop. Everyone is very quiet now, even Alex, Maggie, Kara and James are looking at me.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired,” I say, running my free hand over my shaven head. “I’m going to go back to the RV.”

“No,” Maggie says. She walks up to me, the wind in her step catching her long, dark hair. “You should sleep in the house tonight, the beds are going to be way more comfortable, I assure you. You and Iris and Moo can have the extra room, Joe, you can have the den.”

Joe nods once, wordlessly, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just ruined everyone’s night.

 

I watch Iris as she lays Moo down for bed, I watch her rock him in her arms and sing him a quiet lullaby in her soft, pretty voice. I watch Moo play with her long hair, trying to keep himself awake with the activity and failing. His eyelids get heavy and his hand begins to lose its grip on her hair, and she lays him on his back in the center of the bed.

“Hey,” she says, turning to face me, I’m sitting in the corner of the room and she walks up to me until her knees are against mine, and my hands come up to touch her thighs.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“Shh,” she whispers, touching my head. “Don’t be sorry.”

I turn from under her hand and kiss the inside of her wrist, then my hands move up until they touch the hem of her shirt, and I look up at her with a question in my eyes. She nods and my hands find themselves underneath, touching her skin. She feels as warm and soft as she did that night, and I need her the way I always do, I need to hold her, touch her, kiss every inch of her body until everything is calm again. I push up her shirt and my lips reach the place where my son once lived, and her breath catches as I brush soft kisses there, right beneath her naval. I undo the button on her pants next and my mouth goes lower, until I feel her body go a bit stiff in my hands. I realize why a second later when I see the scar in the soft moonlight pouring in through the window.

“There were some complications,” she says softly, something almost embarrassed in her voice. I run my thumb over the scar and look up into her eyes, wishing once again that I’d been there for her. I see so much when I touch the scar. I see her in what looks like some basement, she’s on a table, sweating through her gown, dazed and in pain, Joe clasping her hand.

_“She’s in severe distress,” says a woman in her early twenties, someone I’ve never met. She has red hair and big eyes. “We’re going to have to perform a C-section.”_

_“You’re going to do that,” Joe says worriedly, a skeptical tone in his voice at the word you're._

_“I may be young but I know what I’m doing,” she says._

_“Do it, save him, please,” Iris cries out, every word a struggle. “Save my baby.”_

She passes out on the table, and the vision ends as soon as it begins.

“Iris,” I whisper up to her.

“I was okay, really,” she assures me. “I woke up the next morning with my baby in my arms, I was better than okay.”

“You weren’t okay,” I shake my head. “I should have been there.”

“Shh,” she says again, and bends to kiss me. “It wasn't your fault. And it's like you said, you're here now. ”

We sleep on either side of Moo that night, my arm is draped over his chubby knees and my hand rests on Iris’s hip, and I lull myself to sleep with the reminder that everything I love is right there with me.

******Harrison Wells, Now******

I know what they must think of me, that I’m some monster trying to keep an innocent kid away from the girl he loves. But I’m no monster. People like Allen are the monsters. You can’t have that sort of power without it corrupting you, without looking at all of the normal people around you and thinking of them as obsolete, some backward stage in evolution. Whether they know it or not, they are incapable of good, every single one of them. Barry Allen claimed to love Iris West more than anything, and he showed it by damaging her brain in some ill-fated attempt to escape the very people keeping her safe from the likes of him. That isn’t something that good people do.

Of course I could have killed Allen when I had the chance, freed the world of one more metahuman, but I can’t deny that he’s been useful to us, and why kill one of them when I can use him to kill dozens? He never faltered, never failed me, until one day out of the blue, he heard her voice and decided to follow it. Now there’s the matter of the boy. Bartholomew Allen Jr. has potential beyond what his father ever showed. If we can mold him from such a young age we won’t need Allen anymore, we can continue our work without him.

This is why we need to find them. Maybe I was a little hasty, a little overconfident in thinking Allen wouldn’t let me down, but he seemed so ready, readier than I’d ever seen him, barely responding to her picture anymore, vowing to take her out like so many others. But he wasn’t ready, and now it’s time to take matters into our own hands.

He dropped the tracker about 100 miles outside of National City, the closest populated area. We’ll start there. It’s a big place, but we won’t leave a stone unturned. We won’t stop until both Allens are in our clutches again, and one day, we’ll only need the one.

**Stay Tuned Folks!**


	7. Chapter 7

 

*****Iris West, 5 Years Ago*****

 

He gets four hours out every Saturday and Sunday now. He chose to spend them with me, his only friend. Sometimes we go out, for ice cream, or a movie or something, but most of the time we stay in my room, just talking, or watching TV, being 14 basically. We’ve never been alone. I’m not allowed to close my door when we’re in there, and there’s always this annoying chaperone guy that accompanies him from the MSI. He makes me uncomfortable. He never laughs, never smiles, and I don’t like that gun. Why does he have to have a gun? Would he shoot Barry? Is that what they told him to do if things get out of hand?

I try not to think about it, I try to just be normal for him, but I’m starting to feel bad about all of this, maybe I’m not even starting to, maybe I’ve felt bad about it for a really long time. Barry has so much control over his powers now, he wouldn’t hurt anyone, wouldn’t read anyone’s thoughts without their permission, and he’s just a good kid. He’s so smart and kind and funny. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have to go back to his cage when we’re done spending time together. That’s what it is, it’s a cage, I don’t care how nice they make it for him.

Dad knows it too. I think he would have quit a long time ago if he didn’t care for Barry so much. I think that’s why they picked the guy with the gun to chaperone us instead of dad. They must know he’s too attached to him now, that he wouldn’t do his job if he had to.

Barry is quiet today, quieter than usual, and I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I feel like I know. Being out of the cage just makes it hurt so much more when he has to go back. What was meant as a kindness is actually a cruelty. He seems a little bit sadder every day, a little more withdrawn, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend all of this is okay.

“Barry,” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder, he’s sitting at the end of my bed, he’s looking at the screen but doesn’t seem to be watching the show that’s on. I don’t ask him what’s wrong. Instead I ask if he wants to go somewhere, anywhere, just to be outside.

“What’s the point?” he says, sadly. And I look at the television again because I don’t know what else to do.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ he says a half a second later, but he’s not really saying it, it’s in my head. He’s telling me something he doesn’t want the man with the gun to know. _“I like it here with you.”_

 _“But you don’t get to stay?”_ I tell him silently, knowing he’s reading it. He shakes his head.

 _“It’s not just that,”_ he looks different all of a sudden, almost scared. _“I’ve been having these dreams, of stuff that happened before I was born, I’ve been seeing things, my parents. I see them almost every night now, I see them suffering.”_

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything about his parents, only what Barry and my dad have told me, that they died in a car accident when his mother was eight months pregnant with him, they died instantly, they didn’t suffer. Now he’s saying something different.

 _“I see my mother, begging for her life, over and over again, I keep seeing it and seeing it,”_ a tear runs from one of his green eyes, and I reach out to thumb it away. He looks at me.

 _“I think they killed my parents Iris,”_ and at that he breaks down, puts his head on my shoulder, clutches my shirt. To the man with the gun, Barry only said ‘what’s the point?’ and started crying after a few moments of silence. Even after hearing and seeing it he’s stonefaced, uncaring. But I care, I have to get Barry out of there. I have to find a way.

 

*****Iris West, Now*****

 

We decide to take a walk, right at sunrise. The trees are too beautiful, the sunshine too tempting. There’s a chill in the air this morning that reminds us that winter wasn’t that long ago, but I’m suitably warm in my jacket, Moo strapped to my back, wearing his little cow’s ear hat. Barry’s holding my hand, and it all feels so normal, he almost seems happy. I want him to be happy so badly that it hurts, I want him to have every single thing he deserves in this world. I turn to him again, and I swear I see a little ghost of a smile on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I say, he squeezes my hand a little harder.

“I _am_ happy,” he says. “I am right now anyway.”

“You know you have to tell me if you’re going to read my mind right? I mean, that’s just basic telepath etiquette.”

“Sorry,” he says with a small chuckle. “It’s habit, when I was in the field their instructions were never to turn it off, not even for a second.”

I don’t want to talk about them, the other ones who had Barry, and I can tell he doesn’t want to either, it’s just hard to stop. I can’t decide whether they’re better or worse than the MSI, at least the MSI tried to do right by him, give him some sense of family and comfort, but they were the ones who killed his family in the first place. They killed them and covered it up so Barry would stay in their pocket. What would have happened if he would have stayed with them? If they never would have ended operations? Would he have just been used as a weapon too? Would they have killed me and dad for going against their plans? Considering what almost happened to me when I tried to help Barry escape, I wouldn’t have put it past them.

"But I have to admit," He continues. "It's nice to hear you so clearly in my head again."

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Iris, can I ask you something?” He steps down from a rocky bank, and reaches for my hand to help me down.

“Anything,” I say.

He looks at me seriously, something pensive in his expression. “Why did you, I mean, what made you want to…”

“What is it Bear?”

“What made you decide to be with me, that night?”

I’ve thought about that, again and again, why I made such a reckless choice in the moment. I didn’t want a baby, what 17 year old does? But I wanted to be with him, to touch and be touched in the deepest way. It was like any rational thought left me as soon as I held him again, and as much as I wanted to believe it was the highly impulsive behavior at work, I knew deep down that it was something else. And it felt good, so good I could have cried, to feel him inside of me, safe and warm between my thighs, my fingers grazing his sweaty back, his wet, open mouth on my neck, and my breasts and everywhere I needed it to be. It hadn't lasted long, but it was enough, it was better than enough.

“Because I was in love with you,” I tell him simply, and of course, that was true.

“But you never said anything before.”

“I was young, too young to even know what those feelings meant. But then you came back that night and they hit me all at once, like a tidal wave I couldn’t swim against. I just had to let it carry me and see what happened.”

“Well, we know what happened,” Barry says, reaching out to touch the baby’s head.

I give him a wistful smile, and kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should start heading back, I could go for some breakfast. Are you hungry?”

His eyes turn dark a second later, and the tiny hint of a smile that was just there seems to dissolve, I didn’t expect it to last long, I was just hoping it would be longer than this. “Iris?”

“What’s wrong, are you alright?”

“What if I don’t deserve it? Being happy?”

“Bear, come on--

“I mean, maybe I don’t.”

“Where is this coming from honey?”

“I’ve hurt people, people like me. I’ve killed them.”

I knew that, why would he think I’d look at him any differently for it? For something that he couldn’t help? “Barry, that wasn’t your fault, you were brainwashed.”

“It was still me,” tears start to spring to his eyes, and I pull him close to me. “What if it was someone else’s father? someone else’s son, or daughter or sister? What if they’re missing them now because of what I’ve done?”

“What _they’ve_ done,” I say, looking him in the eye. “It was them and only them Barry. But you’re with us now, you don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

I don’t want to live on this planet anymore, this dark, cruel world that puts the people I love in danger. I want no part of it, I just want to have my family, somewhere where we’re loved, and accepted, and Barry isn’t thought of as a thing. I want that so badly it kills me.

“Hey, you want to carry him for a while?” I say needing to see that smile again. He has the prettiest smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, and there it is, it’s weak, and there’s still something sad in it, but it’s a smile. I remove the carrier and strap Moo to Barry’s back, and we continue back to the house for breakfast. Moo points out every animal we happen across on the way; a Rabbit, a raccoon, about five squirrels, all of them cats as far as Moo’s concerned. It makes Barry laugh. He tries to correct him every time, only for Moo to yell ‘cat’ again, almost in defiance. And I think I love my son even more than I did before, something I didn’t think was possible.

 

We gather around the breakfast table for the meal Kara’s prepared. Alex and Maggie have already left for work in the city, John and Dad seem to have picked up their conversation right where it left off the other day. James is showing Kara some of the shots he took the afternoon before. I feel like they're avoiding Barry, avoiding talking to him, avoiding looking at him. I know they don’t want to hurt his feelings, they just don’t really know what to say, what will set him off again. But Barry doesn’t seem to mind, he’s teaching Moo his ABCs and 123s with the cheerios, making them into different shapes.

“This one’s C, can you say C?” Barry says, slowly, overpronounced. pointing at the C made of cereal.

“Hi,” Moo says.

“C, Seeeeeee.”

“Hi,” Moo says again. Destroying the C and shoving half of it into his mouth.

“Very good,” Barry says in amused defeat.

“Don’t you think he’s a little young to learn his ABCs already?” I say.

“He already knows 8 words, he’s a genius.” Barry replies.

“Well that’s certainly true.”

And just then Moo reaches his hands out, like he’s trying to grab something, making a soft struggling sound under his breath. His sippy cup has water in it, he’s only allowed a little bit of juice a day, but he loves it so much he’ll take any opportunity to get it. He curls his fingers in and out until Kara’s orange juice starts to slide forward.

“Honey, no that’s Kara’s juice,” I say.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, really. Wow, is he doing that? That’s amazing,” Kara says, indeed looking amazed.

“Well I guess a little won’t--

I don’t get to finish my sentence, the glass of juice catches on the placemat and tips over, spilling on the table. Moo looks immediately guilty, looking at both of us.

“Hi,” he says, ‘sorry,’ he means.

“That’s okay sweetie, it was an accident,” I say to him before turning to Kara. “Sorry, let me get a towel.”

“No,” Barry says, almost frantically. “Let me. Please?”

I hope Kara realizes what he’s trying to do, why he wants to help. Not only to apologize for the night before, but to do something normal, to seem normal. She gives him a warm smile, and takes him to where the cleaning stuff is.

“Is he okay?” John says once they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, I say. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he’s going to be fine.”

 

*****Maggie Sawyer, seven hours later.*****

 

It’s almost quitting time, thank God. I can’t wait to go home, climb into a hot bath with Alex, and relax the day away. I just hope they’re gone, the four of them. 

I don’t think the telepath suspected anything about me. The second I realized what he was I went into defense mode. At the beginning of my training at the MSI, they taught us how to protect ourselves from mind reading. It’s an exhausting process, one that usually involves remaining extremely talkative, thinking of the same song on continuous loop, and breaking it up with random, silent anecdotes. That’s the thing though, nothing makes you want to think of something more than trying not to think about it. Luckily I haven’t actively thought about my time with The MSI in years, complete blip that was. Not even Alex or John know about my past.

When I found out Alex’s foster dad was a Martian I almost bailed, even though it would have broken my heart. Martians are telepaths too, at least they usually are, but when his ship crashed all those year ago it damaged the part of his brain that allowed him to read. It was a blessing really. Imagine hearing everyone’s thoughts all of the time, not being able to turn it off, he says it’s something Martians get used to, but I’m not sure if I buy that. Metahuman telepaths are different, it isn't easy, but they can be trained to use their power selectively. It’s the kind of work I thought I would be doing with the Metahuman Studies Institute, helping metas control their abilities so they could be assimilated properly into society. I wanted to help people like Barry, and that cute little kid. But that wasn’t what the MSI was about, not at all. They wanted to make weapons to use against other metas, and the people who helped them, and I wanted no part of it.

Now I have a quiet life, I work five days a week at a shooting range of all places, and I try to forget, try to forget about all of the harm I could have done if I would have stayed. I don’t know why Joe stayed so long, but he seems like a good man, and if Barry trusts him, after all he went through, then I can’t judge him.

I finish with the days books and put the account manual on the shelf, and I'm about to go lock up when hear the bells ring on the office door.

“We’re closing in like 30 seconds” I say. “But if you want to sign up for one of tomorrow’s sessions-- I turn to see who's at the door, and the rest of the words get lodged in my throat.

“Hunter,” I say in almost a whisper.

“Maggie,” he says. “Long time no see. Man, you are not an easy woman to track down.”

“What are you doing here?” I start to back up, remind myself not to feel for my gun.

“What am I always doing, looking for metas.”

Hunter was my trainer. And the worst part about him was how much I liked him at first. He was friendly, thoughtful, encouraging. It made it a lot harder to admit to myself that he was a complete evil sonofabitch.

“You’re looking in the wrong place,” I say.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, and he nonchalantly tips the scorecard display, sending them scattering to the floor. “But I think you might know where the right place is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m looking for this man,” He says, and he takes out a picture of Barry. He looks even sadder and more defeated in the picture than he did last night, and my heart breaks a little for him.

"I've never seen him before."

“Now that I’m finding it hard to believe,” Hunter says. “I know he left his tracker outside of  National City. And I know he was traveling with Joe West. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No, never heard of him.”

“You were always such a good liar, it’s one of the things I liked about you, you know, you could have gone far Maggie.”

“Yeah, torturing kids for what? The Greater Good, is that what it was? The MSI was a cesspool, I was just lucky enough to find out before it was too late.”

“Actually we're under new management. It’s the Syndicate now, but a Rose by any other name, I guess.”

“Syndicate, perfect, it even sounds evil.”

He chuckles a bit, and before I know it I’m on the floor, my cheek burning with the blow he just delivered. I’m definitely going to have a bruise.

“Hitting women now? I’m sure your mother would be so proud,” I spit blood onto the carpet. He kneels down to be level with me, and I try not to scoot away, try to show him that I’m not scared, even though I’m scared shitless.

“You’re the only former MSI agent within 500 miles of where he dropped that tracker. Joe West has no family here, no business interests, you’re the only link.”

“And you think Joe West would seek me out? I’ve never even met the guy.”

“He was a military Liaison for the MSI.”

“Yeah, and I was a field agent for 6 months. I never even saw the inside of the main facility.”

“Well, I think you’re lying, I think you know him, and if you don’t start talking, that pretty little wife of yours, Alex? She’s dead.”

My heart clenches, but I have to stay calm, I can’t show him that I’m afraid. “Bullshit.”

“I have an agent at her hospital right now, ready to take her out the second I give the command. Tell me where to find Joe West, and she lives, keep this obtuse act up, and she dies, simple as that. I know you wouldn’t sacrifice her life for a Meta who’s murdered countless people.”

He’s lying, he has to be, but… When has he ever played ball this way? Never, when he says that someone is going to die, he means it, I’ve seen it. And Alex, my beautiful, innocent Alex, who never asked to be a part of any of this. I knew it, I knew I couldn’t just cut ties with the MSI without consequences, without it haunting me and the people I love. And suddenly I shatter inside, because I know what decision I’m about to make. It’s the wrong one, the one that would make Alex hate me forever, but it’s the only one I have, because I can’t lose her.  
  
“Please," I say, tears spilling over my bottom lashes. And I know that the tears are all he needs to realize I was bluffing, but I can;'t hold them in any longer, I'm not as tough as I used to be, too many years of domestic bliss will do that. "Please just leave them alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that Maggie," He reaches his thumb out to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth, a show of tenderness that makes my skin crawl. "It's like you said, this is for the greater good."

 

**Stay Tuned Folks!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm genuinely sorry that I took so long to update, and unfortunately I can't promise that the next one will be much faster. I'm hellbent on finishing the third draft of my novel and getting it ready for beta readers by the end of the month, so that's going to take priority right now. But bear with me, I don't believe in leaving fics unfinished. Also, CCBWOG should hopefully be updated by Sunday.

 

*****Barry Allen, Five Years Ago*****

 

I have to keep telling myself that it will be okay, that if I just keep holding onto her hand, and just keep running, that we’ll make it. He’s behind me, I can feel it, and he won’t stop chasing us. But I can fight him if I have to. He has a gun, but I have powers, I’m stronger than he can even imagine. It's why they're so scared of me.

“There’s still time to go back,” I turn to Iris as we take a moment to breathe. We’re in a train station, it’s so crowded and busy that I can’t hear myself think, but it feels safer somehow, we’re just two kids in a crowd now.

“I’m not leaving you,” Iris says, and I know that’s true, Iris will never leave me, she’s my best friend, my only friend. I don’t know what’s out there for us, but we can face it together. “We have to keep moving,” she says.

I nod my head and take her hand again. She already bought the tickets with the cash she’d been saving, we just have to get to the ticket taker's window now.

I take a deep breath and we dart out into the crowd again, dodging and weaving between bodies that seem almost twice our sizes. I try to calm myself down by thinking about Metropolis. I’ve only read stories about it, but I know that’s where I want to be, in the big city, where I can have a new name, a new start. I think about what I might want to do when I get there, I’ll get a fake ID and a work permit. I’m only 14 and I look even younger, but if I fake some sort of congenital defect then they might buy it. I can always get a job as a street magician, but that wouldn’t be very smart for a bunch of reasons, mainly the fact that metahumans are still outlawed, and it won’t take much to make people suspicious. I like to think Iris can get a job at the library. She’s taller than I am, and can maybe pass for 16 with the right clothes. This can work, we can be safe and be together, away from the people who stole my parents from me. I promise myself that I won’t fail her, no matter what. When enough time has passed, we'll contact Joe, I know none of this was his fault.

“Barry!” her hand snatches away from mine, suddenly, and I turn to see her in the grasp of the man with the gun, my heart stops, it’s over. “Barry run, you can still make it!" she cries. But she told me she wouldn’t leave me, and I can’t leave her either.

“Let her go!” I yell.

“If you don’t come quietly, I’ll splatter your little sweetheart’s head all over this train station,” he says, pressing the gun firmly to her temple.

“Barry, run!’ She says again. She has tears in her eyes, and I know that I can’t let him hurt Iris. But what will happen to us if I just go with him? We’ll be separated, I know that much, I’ll never see her again, Iris will probably be tried as an adult for all sorts of crimes, they might kill her anyway, like they did my parents when they tried to take me. I try to read his mind, but he knows how to dodge it, they trained him. So I try to talk to Iris instead.

“It’s okay,” I tell her silently. “I know what to do.”

I make the gun fly out of his hand next and hurl him away from Iris, and she runs at me. I know someone must have seen what just happened, but I can’t think about that now, we have a very short window to disappear into the crowd again.

“Meta!” somebody yells. “Get him, it’s a meta!”

And suddenly they’re closing in on us. It doesn’t matter that we’re kids, I’m a meta, and she’s helping me. We’re the enemy, and they’ll do whatever they can to stop us.

“Barry,” she tells me silently, her fingers twisted in the fabric of my shirt as the crowd surrounds us, blocking us from leaving. “What do we do?”

We have to get out of here, I have to think of something. I can make them ignore us, make them see something else. But I’ve never done that before, not to so many people at once. Iris is clinging to me, needing me to save her, like she saved me. I have to try. Before they can run at us I thrust my hand out, focusing all of my energy on stopping them from attacking. It hurts already, my nose bleeds and my head kills, but I feel like it’s working, they stop, looking confused, like they no longer know what they were just doing a second ago. If I hold on just a second longer we can run away.

“Barry, what’s happening?” she cries, like she’s in pain, I turn to her, she’s holding her head, and she sinks to her knees. And, oh no. I’m hurting her, I don’t know how, but what I’m doing to these people is hurting her. I stop immediately, but she’s on the ground now.

“Iris!” I sink to my knees, and cradle he face in my hands. She’s unconscious, I try to shake her awake but it isn’t working. What did I do? How did this happen?

“It’s over Barry,” The Man says, grabbing me. And this time, I don’t fight.

  


*****Barry Allen, Now*****

  


Moo is asleep in the living room while Joe Watches TV, and as much fun as today has been, just being his dad, I’m happy to be alone with Iris for a moment. We’re in the guest room together, just staring at each other, taking each other in. I feel lucky in a way I’ve never felt before, because she’s here and safe and I love her endlessly.

My hand goes up to touch her face, “Hi,” I say gently.

“Hi,” she says back with a sweet giggle under her voice.

“What do you think it’s going to be like for us?” My thumb moves against her cheek, and she turns her head to kiss the heel of my palm. “Do you think we’ll always be running?”

“I think we’re together, and that’s what’s important.”

I give her a small smile, and go to kiss her. Her lips are the warmest, softest things in the world, and I think I’ll never grow tired of kissing them. She’s right, us being together is all that matters to me, all that has ever mattered. Still, a question lingers in my mind.

“Do you ever feel like you could have had more?” I ask her hesitantly. “I mean, you wanted to be a writer once, you wanted so much Iris.”

“I can write anywhere,” she says. “Right now, I just want to be with you, and our boy. Isn’t that what you want too?”

I nod my head yes, and we kiss again, deeper this time. Her arms wrap around my neck and mine wrap around her waist to pull her closer. “Do you think this is okay?” I whisper against her mouth.

She nods, “Kara gave me the go ahead, kind of an awkward talk actually, but appreciated all the same.”

I close the distance between us once more, holding her body tight against mine. But it still isn’t close enough, I want to feel every part of her, I want to be surrounded in her. My hands go lower, and I hoist her up from her backside, letting her wrap her legs around me. She lets out a soft moan, feeling me go hard against the center of her.

“I want you so bad Iris,” I whisper between firm kisses, on her mouth, her neck, her shoulder, everywhere that lets her feel how much I love her. “I’ve wanted you every day for so long, to kiss you, and touch your body and taste every inch of you. It hurts how much I want you.”

“I’m yours,” she says. “I’ve always been yours.”

I walk us to the bed, still holding her and kissing her, and I lay her down. I hover above her to undo her buttons, and I kiss her along the small curves of her breasts.

“Take your shirt off,” she commands me, so I pull away from her and obey, she sits up and shrugs off her own shirt, and we embrace again, kissing like it’s the first time and the last time all at once. I try not to think about anything else but this moment, and how perfect it is, even while everything in front of us is so uncertain.

After a while I pull away so I can take off her jeans. I pull them off, grunting softly with the effort. When her smooth, brown legs are finally free, I let her wrap them around my waist, and I wrap my arms around her.

“I want you to be happy Bear,” she says, looking me in the eye, dragging her fingers over my shaven head, the constant reminder that I’m meant to be in a place where I can’t be like normal people, where I have to look the way they want, stripped of the physical identifiers that make me _me_. “I want you to smile that pretty smile every day.”

So I do, I smile, and not because she wants me to, but because I can feel it. She’s too close for me to feel anything else.

My hand travels down between us, and I touch her above her panties, the cotton hot and damp with her need. And I like this feeling, like for once she could need me as much as I need her. I move the cotton aside, and slip my finger into her, making her breath catch, making her bite her lip until I kiss it.

“I want you too, all of you,” She says desperately against my mouth. My pants are still on, and I ache inside of them. I pull my finger out of her and start on my fly button, but I must not be going fast enough because she helps me, unzipping my pants and getting them down just far enough to count.

I lay her back down and slide her panties down her legs, kissing the inside of her thigh and making her shiver. I keep going, kissing my way up her body, lingering for a bit at the raised scar I know she's still self conscious about, and I continue upward until I find her mouth again. It's then that I push into her, making her sigh that beautiful sigh. She feels so good, even better than I remember, so warm and wet, consuming me, making me tremble already. I pull out and push back in a few times before pulling out all the way. We need protection, I know that, but I wanted just one sweet moment with nothing between us.

“Why did you stop?” she says, her voice already ragged and panting.

“We need protection,” I say, but she shakes her head, and kisses me once before speaking again.

“No we don't,” she says. “I got an iud.”

 I keep my face straight, trying to hide the jealousy I have no right to feel, but she only laughs at me.

"Please, like I've really had the time to be with anyone else," she says. "I just can't argue with four periods a year."

She kisses me again, not wanting to talk anymore. And I won't push, because even if she had been with someone else, even if she didn't still want to be with me, I'd get it. And I don’t want to think right now about all of the ways I’ve harmed her, never meaning to, but harming her all the same. I just want to love her, to treat her body with all of the care and attention and tenderness it deserves. So I push back in, and she wraps her arms around me, holding me inside of her as if I might leave again. We make love better than the first time, because there’s something unbreakable between us now, and because we know exactly how quickly it can all be ripped away.

 

 

When we finish we dress and return to the living room before anyone can get too suspicious. Joe has fallen asleep too, so we go into the kitchen and James and Kara are washing the lunch dishes that had been sitting ignored for a couple of hours. It’s almost dinner now. Tomorrow we will probably be leaving again, but part of me wishes we could stay. It would be a nice place for Moo to grow up, for all of us to grow together.

“Have a nice nap?” Kara says, trying to stay coy and not quite succeeding.

“Yeah,” Iris says. “Super relaxing.”

“I’ll bet,” says Kara, and James gives her an amused look.

“We’re going to be starting dinner soon, I hope you can get yourselves good and hungry in the next hour,” James says.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, I just…

 

_Are you sure we can trust her?_

  


_What other options do we have? Besides, Maggie here’s got too much to lose, don’t you Mags?_

 

Out of nowhere I see Maggie, in the back seat of a car, her hands zip-tied, a gun pointed in her direction, shooting an angry glare but staying quiet, and at the other end of the gun is… on no, oh God no.

“Bear? are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?” Iris says. I’ve slumped down onto one of the dining room chairs, and Iris is trying to shake me back into reality. I want to stay away a little longer though. The vision lasted only long enough for me to know that they have Maggie in their car and they’re coming toward… toward where? Toward me, toward Iris and Moo? Is she leading them to us?

“I saw something” I tell Iris about the vision, and Kara keeps shaking her head as I talk, not believing what she’s hearing.

“No, Maggie wouldn’t do that, I know her,” Kara says.

“I know what I saw, she was being held at gunpoint, her wrists were zip-tied, I don’t think she had a choice.”

Kara puts down the dish towel and pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, James reaches over to rub her back up and down.

“I can't believe this.” Kara says.

I hear Joe’s groggy yawn a second later as he wakes up from his nap on the couch, and I get up from the seat and dart into the living room to meet him.

“Joe, we have to leave, right now.”

He immediately straightens to standing, as if he knew all the time not to get too comfortable. He doesn't even ask questions as he puts on his socks and shoes, then gathers his still sleeping Grandson and gives him to me. Moo's eyes open and he looks around confusedly until they flutter closed again, his head drooping to rest against my chest. I kiss the baby's head, a silent promise that I will protect him, and we start to move.

Kara and James follow me, Iris and Joe outside, where John is chopping wood for later. I think he realizes there's trouble before we have to say anything, he lodges the sharp corner of the axe in the stump, and demands to know what's happened.

“Maggie is bringing his handlers here,” Iris explains. “She's being held against her will and forced to lead them to us. I don't understand, why would they go to Maggie?”

“Because she was with the MSI,” I say, realizing the exact gravity of what I’m accusing, of course I can't know that for sure, only that she was dodging my mind reading last night. I can never tell what they're trying to hide, but I know what it sounds like when they're hiding something. At first I figured it was something innocuous, some mild embarrassment, but no, it's bigger than that, much bigger.

“How do you know that?” John says.

“I just do,” I say, and he accepts it, because he knows what I can do, what I can hear and see. “But I don't think any of you did. I don't blame you for this.”

“I swear if I would have known anything I would have told you," John says, his face full of regret.

“I know John, but I also know that whoever she is, if she's bringing them here then we can't stay,” Joe says.

“I know they're close, I wouldn't have had the vision otherwise,” I say.

It's then we decide there’s no time for anything but goodbye. We exchange hugs, and thank yous, and promises to come back when it's safe, even though none of us know if it ever will be.

“What about Maggie? Iris says, her voice cracking. “if she's in trouble--

“Then we can protect her,” Kara says, her eyes glowing red to remind us that she's much stronger than anyone thinks, especially the ones coming for me. “We won't let them hurt her, and _you_ can't let them hurt that little boy.”

“Kara is right,” John says. “Your only responsibility right now is to get him to safety.”

Iris nods reluctantly, shaking a single tear free, and hugs John one last time. And we go then, into the RV.

Joe peels off as quickly as he can manage. And the three of us, me Iris, and our son, huddle together on the cushioned seat behind the cab, and I just hold them, unsure of where we’ll end up next, but hoping like hell that they won't find us there.

 

**Stay Tuned Folks!**


	9. Chapter 9

*****Iris*****

 

It takes until almost morning for the three of us to finally drift off to sleep. Even Moo seems more agitated than usual, his wide eyes following the lights zooming past us. I offer to drive a few times, but know every time that Dad will say no. Being behind the wheel keeps him focused, less edgy. I wish that I had something to calm me down, I keep wishing that until were finally asleep, together on the small bed in back.

When I wake up again, only two or three short hours later judging by how tired I still feel, the RV isn’t moving anymore. I look to the side of me at Barry and Moo. The baby is asleep on his chest, and Barry looks something approaching peaceful holding him. I put on my glasses and get up from the bed, careful not to wake them, and start toward the front of the RV. I don’t see dad resting his eyes on the narrow bed in front. I look out of the window at our surroundings. In the daylight the terrain is markedly different than what we left behind the night before. I don’t know how many 100s of miles he’s driven, but it’s all desert now, sand and rock and tumbleweed. Dad is standing off in the distance, facing nowhere. I leave the RV, walk up to him quietly and touch his shoulder.

He turns to face me, and a weak smile reaches his eyes.

“How’re you holding up?” I ask him.

“Good as can be expected,” he answers.

“So, not good?”

His smile remains, but seems to take on a hint of sadness too. “Not so great, no.”

I hug the older man tight, an apology for all of the trouble I’ve caused. Dad had so much going for him before I decided to fall in love with Barry, before we made a child that was born to be a target. I was supposed to help Barry, and in turn help my father, instead I ended up making both of their lives more difficult. Yet I can’t bring myself to regret any of it, because that would mean regretting my son. I could never regret Moo, not in a thousand years. Maybe I wish that the three of us could live in a different world, one where we could be a real family, but I could never wish that I didn’t have him.

But at least I can say that while hugging dad, I feel safe for the first time in a long while, and I hope that he feels safe too.

“I’m sorry Iris,” he says, and I part from him to look at his face.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For not protecting you, for getting involved in all of this.”

It’s hard to imagine that he’s the one who feels sorry about all that has happened, and I know that he can read the disbelief on my face.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you, something you need to know,” Dad says, his voice careful. I remain silent, focused on his dewy, regretful eyes. “I was all for it, the Meta Reassignment act. It’s why I went to work for the MSI, my placement wasn’t random. I wanted to stop metas, I wanted to keep all of us safe.”

“But, that wasn’t what the MSI was supposed to be about, you told me it was to help metas. That other stuff, you said you didn’t know.”

“Their purpose was to get them off of the streets,” he says. “Permanently, that was the mission.”

I pull away from him, not entirely believing what I’m hearing. But I continue to listen as he continues to explain.

“All I knew about metahumans was that they were dangerous, that they could hurt people like me, and you, and I couldn’t let that happen Iris, I had to do whatever it took to keep the rest of my family safe, so I volunteered.”

“You… I— I don’t understand.”

“You were just a baby back then, you didn’t know all that they could do. Not all of them were like Barry, not all of them were good, the meta who killed your mother for the 200 dollars in her wallet wasn’t good Iris.”

I back away more, shaking my head. My mother died in a car accident, that was what Dad always told me, how could he lie to me about that? Knowing everything, knowing how I felt about Barry, how I came to feel about my own child. “You’re not making any sense Dad,” I say, my voice choked. 

“It was a meta who killed your mother Iris. I was going to tell you, one day, when you were old enough, but then things changed.”

He walks closer, reaching his hands out to me, but I move further away, nearly tripping on a rock. “Just don’t try to touch me right now, I need to hear it from you, what changed?”

“I met Barry,” Dad says. “He was this sweet, seven year old kid who loved dinosaurs, who always hugged me when I came into his room, who was completely innocent regardless of any powers. At some point my job stopped being about just protecting the ones I loved, it became about protecting that boy. And when I found out that he saw you in his head, that he loved you so much without ever knowing you. I knew that I’d made a mistake all those years ago when I joined up. I knew that I had to protect that boy the best I could.”

I try not to feel strangled by all of this new information. All my life I’d convinced myself that dad joined the MSI to help metahumans, not… not this. Was it possible that he knew what they did to his parents? Was it possible that the MSI had something to do with Barry being taken away from me and tortured? No, I can’t believe that, I won’t.

“And did you know, that they killed his parents?”

“No, I promise you I didn’t,” Dad says, but his expression darkens. “But I knew that they were capable of that sort of thing, I knew that they’d hurt other families. I just, I thought Barry’s family was different. I needed to think that.”

I sink to my knees then, no, this can’t be, my father couldn’t have been one of them.

“Iris, please,” He says, getting down on one knee to meet me where I kneel. “You have to know that I regret it every day. I was so angry about your mother that I forgot the difference between right and wrong. But I love that kid Iris, you have to believe that.”

“Why didn’t you get him out?” I ask in a choked voice. “I was a child and I knew that he didn’t belong there. You knew so much more, why did you let him rot there?”

“Don’t you think I would have gotten him out if I could have?” Dad says. “Look what happened to you when you tried to escape with him, what happened to both of you. I wanted to do it the right way Iris, bring it down from the inside.”

“So what, you’re saying all of this is my fault, because I tried to do the right thing?”

“No, I’d never even think that baby girl,” he takes me by both shoulders, and somehow I don’t pull away. “What you did was kind, and brave. But it was always going to be dangerous. I couldn’t afford to take that risk.”

I shake my head and launch myself back up from the ground. Why is the world like this? How can it ruin good men like my father through fear? I don’t know how much longer I can take living in it. Without another word I turn away from dad, I leave him standing there in the rocky sand and return to the RV.

Barry is awake now, and I stop short when I see him standing there.

“Barry,” I say, my voice low and broken.

“I know,” he says, his expression unchanged, stoic but with something almost sympathetic in it. “I heard it.”

I run forward into his arms, feeling the way they fold around me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right Iris.” He says, and I look up at his face. “I’m not angry.”

“How could you not be angry?” I say. I hold his face in both of my hands. “You deserve better than all of this. You’ve never ever been what they say you are.

“I almost killed you Iris,” he says. “I almost did it twice.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, that’s what I have to tell myself to even look you in the eye anymore. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re right. I _am_ dangerous.”

“No!” I kiss him hard in protest, burying his own. “I love you,” I murmur against his lips, wetting them with my tears. “I love you because you’re good, and kind and you deserve better than all of them.”

I let him hold me again as I sob against him. It's the first time, I realize, that he’s ever been the calm one, the one to have to comfort me.  Something about it makes me hopeful in spite of it all.

“You need your dad Iris,” Barry says. “Don’t let this drive you away from him.”

“But how could I forgive him?” I cry.

“Because I have,” Barry says.

I try to talk again, but no words come out. My hands feel clammy and my vision blurs, and I’m disconnected from everything, from Barry, even though he’s still in my arms. Before he can finish saying “Iris? Iris what’s wrong?” everything has gone dark.

*****Barry*****

“Iris? Iris!” she’s gone limp in my arms, although her eyes are still wide open it’s like she’s walked out of herself, leaving only a body behind. I sink to the floor with her. I call her name, touch her face gently to stir her, but I can’t find her wherever she is. I begin to panic.

“Joe!” I yell next. It doesn’t take long for the older man to run in. He kneels by our side, putting a hand on my shoulder. I think it’s to calm me but I don’t understand why I should be calm. What happened to her? How can I fix it? I ask him these questions but I feel like they aren’t coming out clearly.

“It’s okay Barry, she’s going to be okay,” Joe assures me.

“What? What do you mean? How do you know?”

“This is just something that happens sometimes. Ever since…” he looks at me regretfully, and I understand. He means ever since I hurt her at the train station. I look down at her face, she’s looking at me but somehow she’s not really seeing me. It’s more like she’s looking past me. I can’t bring myself to be angry with Joe, not when I’m capable of doing this to someone I love.

“She’ll be okay, this isn’t an all the time thing, a few times a year at most,” he continues. “Usually triggered by stress.”

“How long does it last?” I say.

“Sometimes twenty minutes, sometimes half the day,” Joe says. “Put her to bed, she’ll be all right, I promise.”

I let go of a deep sigh and look back down at her. I try to listen to Joe and calm down, but it’s hard to see her this way, here one minute and gone the next, to where I don't know. Still, I gently rise with her, holding her solidly against me. Joe touches my shoulder again and I look at him.

“Barry, after, there’s something I need to—

“I know, I already know,” I say. “And it’s okay, right now isn’t the time to be angry. We’re all we have now Joe.”

“I didn’t know, about your parents, if I’d have known—

“I get it,” I say. I can’t make Iris forgive him, but I do. In the world we live in, humans are basically programmed to fear metas, it’s simply the way that it is. Iris has always been the exception, not the rule. And no matter what side Joe started off on, he’s on our side now. That’s what matters. “And I’m sorry, about Francine.”

He nods at me, and I start toward the back room to lay Iris down. I gently place her next to our son, who’s still sleeping like a rock. I take off her glasses and set them aside and I kiss her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her still mouth.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you,” I say, stroking her hair. “I love you.”

I lay myself down next to her and I try to sleep.

 

 _“Dada”_ I hear an uncertain amount of time later. The RV is moving again and Moo is patting me on the cheek, waking me. I smile up at him, but it fades a moment later when I see the look on his face. It’s worried, and frustrated. I sit up to get a better look at him. He’s sitting on his mom’s stomach, patting her gently, tugging her hair, trying to get her to wake. She’s still not here, she's still staring at the ceiling and not moving.

“Ma,” he says, patting her, getting more upset by the moment. “Ma!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say. I take him in my arms, but he wriggles away, still trying to wake Iris. He crawls over to where I’ve put her glasses, grabbing them and trying to put them on his mother, trying to make her see him. “It’s okay buddy, she’s just sleeping.”

He must have seen her like this before, but he’s so young, it can’t be easy for him to understand even now. I try picking him up again and this time he lets me. There are tears in his green eyes, my eyes.

“It’s okay, she’s going to be okay,” I tell him, and I hug him close, bouncing him a little. I realize now that I’ve never really been alone with him before. Iris has been there with us from the moment I found out, now she’s somewhere else, and it’s just me. But I have to try, he’s my son, I’m his father, I love him more than anything and I have to try.

“Dada,” he cries into my shoulder, he seems to be wishing that he could say more.

 “Hey, you want some breakfast, huh?” I look at him again. He’s wiping his tears, trying to look strong. He doesn’t have to do that. “How about some cheerios?”

He nods then, and I pick him up and start toward the kitchen.

I have to ask Joe what to do. His diaper is full, so before I can make Moo breakfast I have to change it. I’ve never changed a diaper before in my life, and Joe has to pull over to the side of the road to talk me through it.

_Wipe gently…_

_not too much powder_

_you want it snug but not too tight,_

_there ya go, good._

After I’m done and Joe is back to driving, I pour Moo a little bowl of cheerios and a sippy cup of chocolate milk, and I watch him eat all of it. After breakfast I ask Joe what he likes to do. Joe recommends a book. So I find one in Iris’s luggage, a Dr. Seuss. _Mr Brown Can Moo, Can you?_ He likes it because his name’s in the title, Joe says.

I sit with Moo in my lap and I read to him out loud. He repeats the words he knows. Moo and Cat, and I try to help him with others, which he can’t say, although he seems to be listening, processing. Joe says he likes to move things too, but he's only allowed with his toys, so I find the blocks and Legos that Iris packed, and I watch him as he makes them move across the floor. I Didn't learn to use my telekinesis until I was four years old, and even then it was only a light tug on things. It's amazing what he can do, and devastating that he's going to grow up having to hide it.

"Hey, can you build something without touching it?" I ask him. I'm not sure if he understands me, so I show him what I mean. I start to move the legos with my mind one by one until they're linked together in the shape of a simple house. Moo keeps his eyes on me the whole time as I work, he stays silent and focused while I put the finishing touches on it; a chimney, a small door, and a little family out in front, me Iris and our baby. I want that one day. I want a life. It doesn't have to be a normal life, just a life. I want that with both of them. 

"You can take it apart if you want," I say. "See if you can put it back together."

He tries, he pulls the legos apart easily, his powers strong enough to break them away from each other. But when he tries to make the house again, he doesn't seem to remember how they go. I tell him he's doing great even as he sticks a large green brick on top of a small red one, making it impossible to create the same house. In the end he makes a clunky L-shape. He looks disappointed in himself but I tell him it's great, because it is.

After that we watch cartoons on the small tv, a Blu-Ray of _Aladdin_ that was also in Iris’s bag. I’ve never seen _Aladdin_ , and I think I might like it even more than the baby does. I like the songs, and the funny things the Genie does, I like it all. I like Moo the most though. It doesn’t take long to forget for a while everything that we’re up against. I even forget that Iris isn’t just napping back there. After the movie I go in back to check on her, she’s still away. I always miss her when she’s away, I missed her even when I wasn’t supposed to.

After I make lunch for Moo and we eat it together, he starts to get sleepy again, he didn’t sleep very well the night before. When his head droops against my chest I kiss his curly black hair, and I take him to the back room to lay him next to Iris. I want her to wake up, I want her to be with me again. Joe said she’s sometimes gone half the day. So far she’s been gone for five hours. Maybe if I sleep too she’ll be here when I wake. I lay next to her again and wrap my arms around her. She’s so still and quiet that it scares me, even though I know she’ll be fine. The movement of the RV and the sound of their breathing lull me to sleep. When Iris is here again, I’ll tell her all about our day.

**Stay Tuned Folks!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution, a bit of smut awaits.

*****Francine West 13 years ago*****

 

Wally, I think I’ll call him Wally.

He looks so much like his father, and his big sister. And just thinking about them again brings sad tears to my eyes that mix with the happy ones I get when I look at him, and when he wraps his tiny fist around my index finger. He’s going to be special. It’s why I had to leave. They’ll come for him soon. It’s been happening more and more, families ripped apart by the people charged with keeping us safe from metahumans. If only they could see what I’m seeing now, that this little thing couldn’t possibly be bad, that he’s the one that needs to be kept safe. I know just the person who can help us, I just have to find Dr. Stein and pray that he doesn’t tell Joe about any of this. They haven’t seen each other in years, why would he? Yes, this can work, I can keep Wally safe.

Wally. The more I think of it the more I like it.

 *****Iris West, Now*****             

I know where I am right now. I’m in that still place I slip to sometimes when things get to be too much. When I’m here I can see everything, and hear everything. I can feel Barry kiss me desperately, and his tears landing on my face because he doesn’t know what to do. I can feel Moo trying to stir me awake with his tiny hands. I wish there was a way to let them know that I’m all right, that I’m going to wake and then hug both of them for minutes each. As for dad, I don’t know. How could he lie to me like that? About mom? About the MSI? I want to listen to Barry, because he’s right, all we have right now is each other, but I just don’t know. We need to talk, that’s for sure.

How long has it been? It’s hard to tell here. It’s like the seconds all run together and pass me by. I hear their voices, and feel the vibrations of the RV rumbling down the road, but I can’t react to any of it. I want to wake up, or at least sleep for real, but I can’t, not just yet.

There are bright lights shining through the window and into my eyes next. They are moving, and in changing colors. The RV comes to a stop, and suddenly, my blood chills. There is only one explanation, police sirens. They’ve found us. I try to force myself awake, force myself to move, but I’m paralyzed. How is this possible? Dad is such a careful driver, and we were gone from Kara’s before anyone in The Syndicate could get a description of the RV.

Since I can’t move I try to relax long enough to listen.

“It’s been hours Joe, why isn’t she back yet?” I hear Barry say. It’s odd, if the cops found us, why would he still be most worried about me?

“She’ll be back,” Dad says.

“What if she’s not? What if it’s different this time?”

I understand why he’s worried, he’s never seen me this way, what I don’t understand is why nobody is freaking out about the sirens. All cops have metahuman alert bracelets, the second they come close to Barry or Moo it will be the first step to locking them both away. Barry was in captivity as a baby, they have no mercy when it comes to that sort of thing. I try to force myself up again, but it’s like I’m encased in cement. I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t blink. I can only feel, and the only feeling that’s standing out is panic.

“Huh Joe? What if it’s different?”

Dad’s quiet for a moment, I can still hear the sirens, but there’s something strange about them, they don’t sound like they belong to a regular police car, they sound almost musical.

“I promise she’s going to wake up,” Dad finally says. “Besides, who can resist the bright lights of Vegas?”

Vegas? Have we really been driving that long? But at least I know now what the lights are all about, I feel relieved, but still stuck in this prison of my own making, wanting to look out the window and see the lights up close. I’ve only ever seen Vegas in movies, it always seemed so exciting, although I wonder who we know here, or if we know anybody at all. The last time we went to someone we trusted, we nearly ended up caught. Maybe it’s better for us to go it alone, hide out among hordes of tourists.

I can feel the bed dip next to me, it’s Barry.

“Hey,” he says, touching my cheek. “Did you hear that? We’re in Vegas, it’s like a vacation, right? I’ve never really had one of those.”

His voice is thick and cracked. “I just wish you could be here with me. I miss you.”

He lays down next to me again, resting his forehead in the crook of my neck, pulling me into his arms. I miss him too, I feel like I’ve spent more time missing him than being with him, and I hate that right now the only thing keeping us apart is me.

“Moo misses you too, he loves you so much. When I see how much he loves you already I feel… I don’t know. I feel like there’s more to all of this than just science. There has to be.”

There is, I wish I could tell him.

“Barry?” It’s Dad’s voice now, he’s holding Moo, I can’t see him but I can hear the small, cute sounds he sometimes makes when none of his words apply to what’s happening.

“Why is she still like this?” Barry says, sitting up. “It’s been 18 hours, you said it doesn’t last longer than half a day.”

“I know you’re upset, but I promise you she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine Joe, look at her. None of this is fine.”

“Barr—

“Why did you lie to her? How could you do that? She trusted you more than anyone.”

No Barry, don’t do this, I think to myself, wishing that I could say it. We can’t both be mad at my dad right now. Barry’s not mad though, not really, he’s just frustrated because he doesn’t know how to help me.

“It was complicated,” Dad says.

“You’re why she's like this, if she wouldn’t have been upset this wouldn’t have happened. But you lied, you lied for years and now she can’t wake up!”

Dad tries again, “Barr—

“No, no that’s not fair,” Barry says, interrupting. “It’s me, it’s all because of me.”

“Barry, stop.” I spend a few seconds wondering where the voice is coming from, before I realize it’s mine.

“Ma!” Moo says next. I blink a couple of times, then I look at him, his smile at the sight of his mom finally returning to the world.

“Hi my little man,” I say, my voice rusty and unused.

“Iris!” Barry says, throwing his arms around me before I can sit all the way up. I hug him back tight.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

He kisses me several times along the side of my face, like a shipwreck survivor kissing land. It warms my heart to know that he thinks of me that way, but it makes me a little sad, and a little scared too, because what would he have done if I hadn’t woken up?

“You’re okay,” he says, looking at me, there are tears in his eyes, happy ones. When they spill over I wipe them away.

“Ma!” Moo says again, trying to wriggle free from Dad. Barry lets me go so I can reach for my son, I hold him against my chest and let him hug me around the neck.

“Ma,” he says, quieter.

“Hi baby,” I say, swaying him a little. “I’m sorry I went away, but I’m here now.”

“You’re here,” Barry says. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

We’re at an RV park near the strip. Me and Barry are sitting in the front seats together, Moo sits in my lap and plays with the legos on the dashboard. Barry said Moo had made me the shape of an L with his powers before I woke up, now he seems to be trying to make a box, moving the pieces together with his strong mind. We stay parked just outside the gate while dad waits, pacing out in front of the RV. We haven’t really talked yet, I haven’t wanted to, because I know that if we do, I’m going to end up forgiving him, and I just can’t yet, there’s still so much on my mind. Dad wanted to hunt down metas, he was just like them once. How far would things have gotten if he’d never become so fond of Barry? Would he have ended up torturing him like those people did? I needed to believe that sort of thing could have never happened, that he was better than all of him and just lost his way for a while.

I look out through the windshield at him again, he's still waiting. Waiting for what? I wonder. A few minutes later a car pulls up next to the RV.

"I wonder who that is," I say.

“It’s Cecile Horton,” Barry explains. “Your dad’s friend.”

“What she doing here?” I ask, even though if we were being honest, it would be good to see a familiar face.

“We were in such a hurry to leave John’s that we forgot our fake IDs, Cecile printed us new ones.”

“She came all this way for that?”

“I don’t think it’s just about the IDs,” Barry says. I look out the windshield again, Cecile lifts her petite frame out of her car and goes forward to hug Dad, they break apart and start to talk.

“What are they saying?” I ask Barry.

“You want me to spy on them?” he asks me.

“I’m mad at him remember? For the time being I’d say he deserves it."

Barry shakes his head and smirks a little at me. “Okay, but remember I’m just the messenger.”

I nod. And Barry begins to focus on their conversation. “He’s asking her to stay,” Barry says. “She’s trying to say that she can’t, but she’s lying.”

“I should have known,” I say, and I can’t help but smile a little too. “What’s she saying now?”

“Something along the lines of ‘I don’t know Joe, I have a lot going on back home.’”

“She has nothing going on back home,” I say. “None of us do since the bad stuff went down.”

“She’s just playing coy,” Barry says, his smile widening a bit. “She’s going to say yes.”

I look at him, narrowing my eyes a bit in amused curiosity.

“What?” he says.

“You big romantic you,” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

“What can I say?” he takes my hand. “When you’re this happy you want everyone else to be happy too.”

 

In the end, Cecile decides to stay, not promising for how long. She’ll take the front space with dad, and I’ll take the back space with Barry and Moo. It’s early in the evening, and me and Barry have both slept more than any able-bodied person should have to. The only thing left to do is get out and explore.

Dad and Cecile offer to watch the baby, it feels like groveling from him. I know I’m not supposed to trust him, but dad and Moo have been pals since the day the kid was born, that didn’t change because my impression of Dad did. I thank him a little more coldly than usual, and me and Barry leave the RV.

We catch a bus to the strip where we immediately find a souvenir shop. Barry gets a baseball cap, a pair of yellow-tinted aviator glasses, and a surprisingly not terrible fake mustache. I laugh at his disguise, and find a long blonde wig and a pink hoodie for myself. I also put in my contacts, which I hardly ever wear. Since Barry technically doesn’t exist I know that nothing about his disappearance is in the news, but it’s safest to believe that his handlers have eyes everywhere. It’s best to be cautious. According to the IDs, I’m 25 year old Farrah Phram from Jersey, and Barry is 23 year old Brandon Cliff from Atlanta, it’s the first time we’ve had to use them since leaving.

It’s all so much bigger, brighter and busier up close, and for the first time in a long while, I feel light, and unbothered. There are so many people everywhere, swarming around us, never really seeing us, it’s freeing.

Since neither of us feel much like gambling, we do practically everything else we can fit into a few hours. We ride the sky high rollercoaster on top of the stratosphere, where we could look down at the see of light, color and movement that is the city, and I realize for the first time that Barry is afraid of heights. Imagine that, someone like him with so much power, afraid of a rollercoaster. But he rides it with me anyway, gripping my hand tight as it takes its first lurch forward, and after the first drop his screams turn to delighted laughter, like he’s a kid again. Actually, it’s like he’s a kid for the first time ever. After we get back down, we hold hands and circle the fountains outside the Bellagio, we watch the way the water rockets up and cascades down, spraying us with a bit of mist. We catch the live music and light shows on Fremont street, and eat way too many macarons at the Paris buffet.

As the evening soldiers on, we find ourselves at Margaritaville. I’ve never gotten drunk before, neither has Barry, and we both know that it’s probably not the brightest idea considering everything we’re up against, yet I feel like through all of the fear and misery, we deserve the sort of fun we’ve never gotten to have. We’ve budgeted our money wisely, and before we left Cecile told us not to worry so much about spending, to just be a bit irresponsible in the few fleeting moments that we still can, so it’s what we do. The margaritas are frosty, delicious and two feet tall, and we’re both way past buzzed at the halfway point, and completely blitzed by the time we finish. Barry looks so deliriously happy, singing too loudly to the island songs that blast from the speakers even though he doesn't know the words, pulling me up from the barstool to dance me across the floor.

“I love you!” he says loudly. “I want everyone to know that I love this girl!”

“Shh!” I whisper, still laughing. He brings me close, missing my mouth at first and kissing me sloppily on the chin before he corrects his aim. I feel too many feelings when he kisses me this way. It’s like everything is moving too fast and standing perfectly still at the same time. I know it’s not just the tequila, it’s how he always makes me feel.

“Hey, Iris, you know what we should do? Listen, it’s the best idea ever!” he says, slurring his words.

“We’ve already ridden the roller coaster.”

“No, that’s not it, it’s an even better idea than that.”

“Okay,” I link my arms around his neck and it feels so normal, everything has felt normal since I woke up. “What’s your big idea?”

“I think we should get married,” he says, giving me a second of pause. My head is buzzing with liquor and emotion and I’m not processing anything.

“Whaa?” I say.

“I want to marry you Iris, I want Moo’s parents to be married.”

“You’re drunk,” I say nervously.

“I’m in love!” he corrects me.

“It’s the same thing,” I laugh and hug him close to me and sway him too slowly for the song playing. “We can’t get married Bear, we’re not even us. We’re Farrah and Brandon.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “We know who we are, that’s what matters. When you were gone today, I was so scared that you weren’t going to come back.”

“Barry—

“But you’re here now,” he cups my face in his big hands and looks me intensely in the eyes. “You’re here and I can’t let you slip away again. I need you.”

The way he’s looking at me now almost makes me feel sober. I press my cheek against his heart, feeling its beat. There is noise and music and laughing all around us, but his heartbeat is louder than all of it.

“I don’t want you to need me, I want you to be okay without me.”

“I’m not,” he says.

I take a deep breath and squeeze him tighter, “I’m not okay without you either.”

“So we should do this, this isn’t the margaritas talking. I want to be yours forever and ever.”

He already is mine, we don’t have to get married for that to be true, and yet, why not? If it would make him happy, why shouldn’t we? And to be honest, it would make me happy too.

“Iris West,” he says with me still in his arms. “Will you marry me?”

And I tell him yes. Always yes.

Farrah and Brandon get married in a small, nearly empty chapel, with flickering white Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, and an ordained minister in a mustard stained Rick James outfit, who I think might be as drunk as we are.

 I always imagined having a big wedding, in a beautiful dress with my whole family there. But I also imagined having a baby years down the line. Life never has cared much about my plans. I like to think that one day everything will be better, that the Metahuman reassignment act will be outlawed, and Barry can be Barry again, and we can be married for real, but for now, I say my vows, strong if not always clear. And he says his too, and we kiss each other before the minister tells us we can. The whole thing is a huge, happy blur, and before we know it, we’ve checked into a motel on the strip. We’ll only need it for a couple of hours, we’ll go back to the RV right after, but neither of us are thinking about that as we embrace the second the door closes behind us. We kiss drunkenly and sloppily as we tear at each other’s clothes. I laugh as he tickles me with his fake mustache when he goes to kiss my neck.

“Hang on,” I say, giggling and hiccuping. I peel the mustache off of him and take off his glasses and his hat, turning him into my Barry again, he takes off my wig, turning me into his Iris. We’re naked against each other a few moments later and he takes me to the bed. I’m pressed between his body and the sheets now. We’ve only had sex twice before, with each other and no one else, and my heart is pounding just as loudly as it was the first time. He’s clumsy and sweet about it, whispering his love for me as he kisses me down the curves of my body, adding his tongue in at the important places, my pert nipples, the soft skin in the dip beside my thigh, and then, the most important place of all. He’s never done this before, but I welcome him tasting me, I love the warm, soft feel of his tongue lapping up my wetness and replacing it with his own, it’s ticklish and intoxicating and just plain good. He grabs me by my trembling thighs and plunges his tongue in deeper, adding his lips and sucking. He’s so close to the right place, I can feel him right near the edge of it.

I grip the bedsheets with one hand, and cup the back of his bristly head with the other, guiding him silently to that perfect pile of nerves.

“Yes, right there,” I say, and he stays, devouring me in the best way, making my heart pound and my breath speed up. “Oh Barry.”

I love the feel of his mouth on me, especially as he teases that spot over and over again, finding it as often as he misses it, it sets my nerves on fire and makes me yearn for the rest of him.

“Come back,” I groan. “I want you inside me. Please, please come back.”

He listens, dragging his mouth up my skin until he finds my mouth again. I can taste the alcohol on him, and I’m thinking my brain is probably about as fuzzy as his is, but everything feels so real in this moment. Barry Allen is my husband, maybe not legally, but it feels official, like it always has been.

The taste of his tongue in my mouth is like lime and salt and sweetness and me and him. He pulls away to tell me breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

I laugh at him, and tilt my head up for his lips to meet mine again. He takes me by the thighs and guides me to wrap them around him, and he pushes all the way into me, I suck in a breath as he starts to move, and I move with him. With his senses dulled by the liquor, he keeps going longer than before, and the time before that. I want to come with him, I want to know how it feels to fall over that edge I’ve gotten so close to before. He doesn’t get too tired moving in and out, gripping the sheets, sighing against my shoulder. I dig my fingers into his back, feeling his scars, the ones that they put there. He moves faster, and harder, and I can feel it, how close I am to that edge. I flip us around and take my place on top, rocking harder and faster on top of him, my hands pressed solidly against his chest.

“Touch me Barry,” I sigh, barely getting the words out, and he listens, reaching between my thighs and touching me where I need it most as I bounce on top of him. The friction of his fingers against me combined with how completely he fills me, takes me closer than I’ve ever been, until finally

“Barry!” I exclaim, my toes curling, my eyes squeezing shut.

I collapse against him, still moving, needing to get him there too, but my heart is pounding, and I’m shaking, and it’s good, it’s so so good.

When he empties into me finally, I let out a sharp breath and rest my sweaty head against his chest. Nothing can touch us, no one, not anymore.

 

*****Ray Palmer, Now*****

The kid is going to lose his mother, there’s nothing that can be done, believe me, we’ve tried. I feel the worst sort of sorry for him. Francine has been his protector for as long as he’s been alive. First Dr. Stein, now his mom. I don’t know how to tell him we’ll soon be the only family he has left. It’s a good family, we’re strong, and we know how to fight for what’s right, for Wally, and people like him who did nothing but come into the world different. I’m not a meta, but I understand right from wrong. Dr. Stein understood too, it was why it was his life’s mission to end the metahuman reassignment act, the MSI and the fear that lives in so many otherwise good people. He may be gone, but his mission will live. I just wish that Wally didn’t have to deal with all of this so young.

“Ray,” he says, stepping into the door, he was with his mom all day, I don’t think he’s stood until now. “It’s too late isn’t it?”

“Not for you,” I say, because I can’t say anything else. I bring him in for a hug and let him sob against me. “It’s never too late for you.”

**Stay tuned folks!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been taking forever to update this story. I hope you all are still with me. This is a very talky chapter, and a bit more calm before the upcoming storm. We're in the home stretch y'all!

*****Barry Allen, two years ago*****

It’s cold here, and dark, so dark. I taste blood, my head and my body are throbbing and bleeding, when they were hitting me I thought they wouldn’t stop until I was dead, but they did stop, and left me here in the dark for hours. I can’t use my powers when I’m like this. I can’t do anything but lay here and whimper like a starving dog.

I want Iris, I want to be back in bed with her, like before. How did they find me so fast? Why couldn’t I have had just a few more days with her? They tried so hard to convince me that she doesn’t love me, but I know she does. I hear her calling me even now, and it makes me cry because it’s not real anymore. Was it ever real? Did I just dream it all?

I remember, they were moving me somewhere in a van, somewhere far away. But they stopped, not for long, but long enough for me to run away until I couldn’t run anymore. I kept running until I found her. I know that it all happened, and that she took me to bed and let me kiss her and be inside her. One of my eyes is already swollen closed, I squeeze the other shut, trying to remember hard enough to feel her skin against my skin again, feel her arms around me and her warm breath against my ear as she sighs my name.

It isn’t fair that they took me in the middle of the night, away from my Iris. They told me they didn’t hurt her but how can I trust them when they lied about her not loving me? All they do is tell lies, and I can’t let them get into my head anymore, I’m supposed to be stronger than them but I feel weak when I’m so lonely. I need to keep her with me as long as I can this time, if not in my arms then in my head. I won’t survive if she’s not with me.

The light switches on again suddenly, so bright now that it shines through my eyelids. It’s him, but it’s going to be different this time, it has to be.

In less than a second he has me wobbling on my feet again, he slaps me across the face, not as hard as before but hard enough to sting. I open my good eye and face Harrison.

“Good to have you home son,” he says. I hate him, I hate him with all of my heart.

“I’m not your son,” I spit. He won’t kill me, if he was then he would have done it already. He wants me for a reason, but I’m not going to make this easy on him, not anymore.

“It’s good that you’re fighting back, shows strength of character,” he says. “You see Barry, I’m not trying to change you, I’m just trying to redirect that strength toward a higher purpose, a greater good.”

“Fuck your greater good,” I say next.

“Okay, there’s strength of character and there’s just plain insubordination, but don’t worry—

He punches me in the stomach, hard until I double over, he takes me in his arms, let’s me rest there because I’m in too much pain to pull away.

He whispers into my ear, almost gently, “We’re gonna work on that.”

*****Barry Allen, Now*****

When I wake up, Iris’s hair is under my chin, messy with sleep. Last night feels fuzzy and distant, my throat is dry and my head hurts like when I use my telekinesis for way too long. I just want to shut my eyes again, but something at the back of my mind tells me I shouldn’t be here. I jiggle her shoulder with my hand. She makes a soft grumbly noise and shifts off of me to shove her head under a pillow.

“Iris,” I whisper. She waves me away with one hand and I almost smile. “Iris it’s,” I check the clock. “Oh my God it’s nine o’clock, we have to go!”

She gasps loudly and throws the pillows and covers from over herself. “We fell asleep, how the hell did we fall asleep?”

“It’s okay, We’re here at least until tomorrow,” I reassure her. Joe will be upset, maybe even furious, but I doubt The Syndicate is anywhere close to finding us. Our route hasn’t exactly been straightforward. Also, if they were near, I would know it. That’s the trouble in trying to keep a telepath under their thumb. It can only last so long.

We get up and scramble back into the clothes we discarded the night before, and the memories start to wash over me. We drank, maybe too much. And I’m pretty sure something else happened, something big. I look at Iris, she’s a complete mess from top to bottom, the hair, the crusted drool on the side of her cheek, just a mess. But she’s still so cute that I want to get her under the covers again. She puts her hoodie back on, but her hand gets caught in her sleeve somehow. 

“What the,” She gets her hand free a second later and looks down at it. There’s a chintzy ring there, one that looks immediately familiar.

_“Do you take this superfreak to be your lawfully wedded wife?”_

At the sudden memory, I can’t help the laugh that escapes. That was the big thing. 

“What is so funny?” she says.

“I think you and I got married last night.”

She studies the ring a little more, and a lightbulb seems to go off. “Oh my God,” she says, smacking her forehead. “The minister was dressed like Rick James wasn’t he? Ugh, I am such a cliché.”

“Cliché would be Elvis,” I say, hoping to give her some mild amusement.

She smiles weakly and I walk up to her and pull her into my arms, hugging her.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” she says. “Have you seen anything bad in your head?”

“No, I think we’re safe for now. We used fake IDs, fake names, remember?”

“I barely remember my own name. I just want to see Moo, I don’t think I can relax again until I see him.”

We check out of the motel, giving them the last of the spending money Cecile gave us, and we head back to the RV park, needing two buses to get there, I hadn’t realized how far we’d wandered. It’s nearly 10 by the time we get back, and Joe is out in front of the RV with a cup of coffee clasped between his hands, pacing and looking none too happy.

“Where were you?” he asks, sounding angry and relieved at the same time. 

“I’m sorry Joe,” I say. “We didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

He sets the coffee cup on the picnic table nearby. 

“This is serious you two. We can’t afford for you to be irresponsible teens right now, there’s too much at stake.”

“Dad, it’s okay, we’re fine,” Iris says, sweeter to him than she was the night before.

“And what if you hadn’t been, huh? What if they had found you?”

“Dad—

“I know what these people do, it’s why I switched sides. I wasn’t going to see someone I care about suffer then, and I’m sure as hell not going to do that now.”

“Dad!” she says, marching two quick strides up to him, taking his shoulders in her hands, forcing him to see her. “Listen, I screwed up, just like you screwed up. Can’t we just be even, please?”

He looks like he wants to protest, like he’s biting back his words with all of his might. 

“That’s not fair,” he finally says.

“It might have to be,” Iris says, smirking victoriously, she then kisses him on the cheek. “We’re all we’ve got, right?”

He doesn’t want to let her off the hook, but he knows that she’s right. Sometimes I can read people without using my powers.

“Yeah yeah,” Joe says. “Get inside to your kid.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. She beams at the prospect of seeing him. It’s been a little over 12 hours and she runs into the RV like it’s been days. I love how much she loves him, that I could give her something that precious to her.

Cecile is resting him on her hip while she makes a late breakfast, her hair is tied up in a scarf and she’s singing a soft tune. She looks at us and seems more entertained than upset.

“Well, well, well, look who the coyotes dragged in,” Cecile says.

“Ma!” Moo says, reaching for his mother. Iris gathers him up and kisses his face three times.

“I’m sorry honey,” she says. “I didn’t mean to be out so late. I won’t do it again okay?”

He smiles at her, in understanding it seems.

“That’s okay,” Cecile says, reaching to tickle his belly, making him cackle. “We had a great time didn’t we kiddo?”

“Yeah,” Moo says, and Iris’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“Did you just say ‘yeah?’” She says, looking at him in amazement. She looks at Cecile again next. “He learned a new word?”

“It would appear that way,” Cecile says. “Why don’t the three of you decompress in back? Brunch will be ready in ten.”

We head to the back room together, Iris puts Moo on the bed and we sit on either side of him.

“How many words is that now?” I ask.

“Nine,” she says.

“Jesus, he’s so smart.”

“Of course he is,” she leans in to kiss me, like it’s because of me that Moo is a genius. I was always smart, I was reading by three, doing simple equations by four, it would make sense that he’d inherit some of that. But I can’t help but think my son is as amazing as he is because of his mother, she was there from the beginning. I don’t know how many times I’m going to regret missing as much as I did, maybe I’ll never stop regretting it. She can tell me it wasn’t my fault a million times, but I’ll always wish that things had happened differently.

“Guess what baby,” Iris says next. “Me and your daddy got married last night, isn’t that exciting? I mean, I’m not sure if it technically counted but…

“It counts to me,” I say, reaching for her hand. I don’t know if he understands that, I guess it doesn’t matter if he does or not, he knows I'm here, and that we're together.

“Dada,” he says next, and he points to something just out of view. I look to where he’s pointing, to the corner of his room where his toys are. Before I can get an idea of what he wants me to see, the object lifts away from the pile and floats toward us. It’s a bunch of legos in a squarish shape. Not quite a house, but close. He drops it into my lap and I pick it up, admiring it.

“Way to go buddy, you’ve been practicing.”

He looks proud of himself, and I give him a hug to let him know I’m proud too.

After brunch we hit the road again, I’m not sure where we're going. I know that Iris and Joe talked it over a little outside while they were enjoying their last campfire coffee of the morning. I figure I should ask now. Although Vegas was relatively calm as far as anyone tracking us down was concerned, I can’t help but remember the stop before that, how badly things could have ended up if we hadn’t peeled out of National City in the nick of time. I still wonder if Maggie and the others made it, although I know we can’t risk trying to find out right now. I find Joe in the driver’s seat of the RV and sit in the passenger’s seat, looking out toward the stretching road.

“Where are we headed,” I ask casually.

“Not sure if you’d want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not going to sound like the brightest idea to you right about now, but I promise it is, it might be the only one we’ve got.”

I look at him quizzically, and he takes his eyes off the road for a split second to look at me.

“Central City,” he finally says, and something in my stomach flips.

“Central city, as in a few miles away from Fort Randall?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“We’ll be in and out, hand to God. But there’s intel there that will help us. Besides, The MSI hasn’t operated there in over a year, even if it had it’s the last place The Syndicate would expect us to be. This isn’t exactly plan A, I thought things would be safer in National City but we all saw how that turned out.”

“What kind of information is in Central City?” I ask, still skeptical.

“An old friend, Professor Martin Stein. We had plans together before everything went to hell.”

“What sort of plans?”

He looks at me again before immediately returning his eyes to the road. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure that’s understandable right about now. I have a kid to think about.”

He laughs, a hearty laugh that puts me at ease. “You really love that boy don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I say. “I loved him before I knew he existed. And I love your daughter more than you could possibly know.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs again. “I’ve always known.”

“Were you ever afraid Joe? Of what me loving her might mean?”

“Well, I knew I stopped having a choice in it the second she met you. From day one you were all she could talk about.”

“And do you ever regret it? Letting her know me?”

He shrugs a shoulder, “I regret what you went through, but regretting her knowing you would mean regretting that boy back there, so no. Besides, I needed to know what it meant, you seeing her the way you did, something told me the reason wasn’t anything bad. I guess I knew you too well by then. I just wished I’d known myself, and what I was fighting for. I could have protected you both better. If I regret anything it’s that.”

I nod my head. For the next several moments there’s no sound except for the crackling Motown on the radio, cutting in and out and competing occasionally with a Hispanic music channel. I can also hear Iris having a conversation with Cecile in back, one full of laughter. I want things to stay this way for as long as they can, but I know that that’s too much to hope for, at least for now.

“What were your plans,” I ask again. “With Dr. Stein?”

He laughs at me again, “You don’t give up do you?”

“I guess not.”

He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for something. “When you were about 11, I got called in for this top secret meeting. I mean, I guess it’s still classified all things considered but that feels a little beside the point now. Anyway, one of the higher ups at the MSI told me their plans for this new training program, I won't get into the gory details but the words 'extreme conditioning' came up, which is just a cuddlier way of saying brainwashing and torture.”

“Jesus,” I say shaking my head.

“When I started working for the MSI it was because I thought it would keep people like Iris safe, but I didn’t know what I know now. I didn’t know you. Just keeping you in locked up all those years was bad enough, and maybe if we hadn't bonded like we did then I would have just followed orders the way I was supposed to. The way it was, what that man told me that day wouldn’t sit right with me no matter how long I thought on it. So I got in contact with Stein, I didn’t know him well but I knew that he’d become very opposed to a lot of what they had planned. A more than reliable source told me that he’d quit the agency to start planning a sanctuary for metas. He’d already saved dozens from being imprisoned at that point, and he’d set his sights on freeing the ones already held captive by the MSI.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“Because when it came down to it they had more resources than we did. It didn’t stop us from trying, we tried everything, again and again for years. Me reasoning with them to let you have time out of the headquarters was meant to be a step toward getting you out of there for good, but…”

“But things went wrong?”

“As they do.”

“I had no idea about any of this.”

“You weren’t supposed to, the less you knew back then, the better. But now, things are different.”

“So if we find Stein…”

“We find the sanctuary. He never told me where it was, I worked in a building with three telepaths and only one was on my side, no matter how good I was at blocking my thoughts there were no guarantees. But like I said, things are different now.”

He had no idea. I still can’t fathom everything that’s changed in so short a time, but I can’t let it change back now. A sanctuary for metas, it sounds too good to be true, but I need to believe in it, at least for a little while.

“You’re a good man, Joe,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder before heading to the back of the RV. Cecile is resting on the couch now with earphones in, reading a book and humming quietly to herself. Iris is playing peek-a-boo on the floor with the baby, but he doesn’t seem to be falling for it. She covers her eyes with her hands and he keeps reaching out to pull them down from her face.

“Either you’re terrible at this game or I am,” Iris says, laughing. Moo laughs too, pleased with himself. I sit next to them and Iris looks at me sweetly.

“So,” I say. “Central City?”

“Is that okay?” She says. “I mean I know it’s scary.”

“It is, but if we can find this place that Stein built then we can really be okay for a while. I just… I want to be okay so bad Iris.”

“I know,” she reaches out to touch my face, I know that it’s gone scruffy in the few days we’ve been on the road. I kind of like it, if only because it makes me look different than what they tried to turn me into.

“Do you believe it?” I say.

“I believe my dad,” she says. “He’s made mistakes in the past, but I know who he is now. He wants to protect us.”

“And do you think we should tell him?” I ask.

“Tell him what? That we got drunk in Vegas and had a quickie wedding?” she says in a low voice, I smile and nod. “I think we should save that one until we’re settled somewhere, then it can just be a funny story, ya know?”

“I agree, we’ll keep it between us.” I kiss her on the cheek, but she wants a little more, turning my head in her hand so her lips can meet mine for just the sweetest of moments. The three of us continue to play after that, and I think of what could be ahead as the RV keeps rolling forward. I want to rest for once, to just live for a little while without having to watch my back. I want to take Moo to school in the morning, help him with his homework in the afternoon, and tuck him in at night. I try not to want more than that, like to go to college, or have a real job. Those things would be amazing too, but just making all that a reality for my son one day feels like a nice enough dream for right now.

We drive for a few more hours, past pretty stretches of green. I barely remember Central City or even fort Randall, I saw so little of it when I was there. I still swallow hard when the trees and hills turn to homes and buildings as we cross into the city limits. I pray to myself that nothing goes wrong, that Joe can get the information that he needs to get us one step closer to sanctuary.

*****Harrison Wells, Somewhere Outside National City, now*****

I’m working with idiots. This is the only explanation. How is it that Sawyer didn’t talk? That Barry Allen is still a step ahead of us? I wanted him for a reason, his heart makes him weak but it also makes him pliable, responsive. I bent him to my will by pretending to care for him all those years, I convinced him that the pain came from love, that it was going to make him better and make me proud. I was so convincing I almost believed it myself.

He learned to do remarkable things through our guidance, but I’ve never let him realize the full extent of his power. He could destroy us all if he knew, and now that  bitch has given him a reason to. I needed him to kill her, to break that ridiculous connection once and for all. I was counting on that. I can’t let this get out of hand. I have to find them. If I have to kill them both myself then so be it. I can start again with the boy, he’s young, in another year he won’t even remember them, then I can really get to work.

 

**Stay Tuned Folks!**

 

 


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